


get real, get right

by rinpanna



Series: futile devices [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Banter, Canon Compliant, Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, Grayace Kageyama, Hand Jobs, Healthy Communication, Humor, Introspection, Kissing, M/M, Masturbation, Porn With Plot, Third Year KageHina, get you a man who can do both, my personal kink, teenage hinata is the most horny bastard on this goddamn planet but also a respectful king
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 09:28:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29914839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rinpanna/pseuds/rinpanna
Summary: Anyways, despite the universe’s active efforts to kill him via the termination of the passage of time, he’s made it this far, so he can’t die now. Kageyama returns in t-minus—his gaze flicks back up to the clock again—three hours and twenty three minutes, and Shouyou needs to have a beating heart and other functioning organs so that he can hug him when he arrives. And kiss him. And ... maybe do some other things.In which Shouyou (im)patiently waits, and Kageyama finally comes home.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio
Series: futile devices [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2199786
Comments: 14
Kudos: 57





	get real, get right

**Author's Note:**

> woo! new fic! this idea had been sitting around outlined in my drafts for a month, and one day, i was like, "i should start that huh" and it's literally consumed my entire being ever since. i really thought this was gonna be shorter than the original ☠️☠️
> 
> to those who haven't read the first part of the series, I don't think that you _need_ to (context: 3rd year kagehina have a convo about kageyama's gray ace-ness and then do it over the phone, with kageyama promising that they'll do it in real life soon), but i think some of the emotional impact of this fic is lost if you don't. also, the first part of the series is a banger, if i do say so myself, so i recommend reading it anyways ;)
> 
> big thanks to [em](https://twitter.com/Emlee_J) for helpin me wif some dialogue 8)) i appreciate you, you beautiful human
> 
> title is from sufjan steven's [get real get right](https://open.spotify.com/track/4cKwbogBtaRyOVses4IMvy?si=d2aa10179f0e4b4f)
> 
> enjoy!

Shouyou looks at the clock over the chalkboard for the forty thousandth time this class period. He groans quietly to himself when he calculates that it’s only been one minute and twelve seconds since he last checked. His leg starts bouncing underneath the desk as he picks at a hangnail, cursing the fact that time won’t just freaking _move faster_ when he wants it to.

Three days. It’s been three days since he and Kageyama talked _like that_ on the phone—three days since Kageyama said, “ _After tonight, I don't know if I_ want _to wait any longer_ ”—and since then, the hours have crept on like days, the days like fortnights.

Shouyou’s never been edged before, and he’s not 100% sure that he knows what it means, but he’s pretty sure that this is what it feels like. The universe is edging him—making _three days_ feel like _three centuries_ before he can see his favorite person on the planet again.

Shouyou’s nose scrunches at that thought. When did Kageyama become his favorite?

Anyways, despite the universe’s active efforts to kill him via the termination of the passage of time, he’s made it this far, so he can’t die now. Kageyama returns in t-minus—his gaze flicks back up to the clock again—three hours and twenty three minutes, and Shouyou needs to have a beating heart and other functioning organs so that he can hug him when he arrives. And kiss him. And ... maybe do some other things.

Shouyou shakes his head. He knows that he shouldn’t _expect_ anything beyond a kiss—they’re going at Kageyama’s pace, after all, and Shouyou may be the most impatient person on the planet, but for Kageyama, he’ll wait as long as he needs to. What’s that one meme? Where Guy Fieri’s driving the sexy red sports car with the caption “I can bear any pain as long as it has meaning?” Yeah, that’s how Shouyou feels about the situation (the “pain” being reining in his incessant lust—there’s nothing actually painful going on up in here). But just because he has the _mental_ fortitude to stave off his intrusive, horny thoughts doesn’t mean that he’s _physically_ capable of anything. To put it lightly: like making up for the first half of this week when he was hit with a dry spell more arid than the Sahara Desert, Shouyou has jacked off _so many times_ in the past three days. And despite the copious amount of lube that he has so diligently used, he’s starting to feel like his dick is gonna fall off.

Speaking of said dick—the relentless bastard twitches in his slacks. Inhaling, Shouyou drops his forehead on his desk, face pinching inward in earnest.

He should really not be thinking about this in math class.

After a minute of praying to the sweet virgin Mary (he’s not even religious), Shouyou picks his head up off of his notebook, the page sticking to the light sheen of sweat on his skin before peeling off and fluttering back down to the table.

It’s Saturday, so they get out early—and this is his last class of the day. His eyes quickly flit up to check the clock again: exactly fifteen minutes before he’s set free. He can—he _will_ —focus for the last fifteen minutes of class. Shouyou looks down at his teacher and watches her draw a wavy line on the chalkboard. She then writes an equation on the board next to the graph.

“Using the information from the equation, what are the amplitude and wavelength of this sin curve?”

Shouyou frowns, brows furrowing. What the hell is a sin curve? How long has he been checked out today? One of his classmates answers the question, and Shouyou stares dumbly at the equation. How on earth did they get _that_? Shouyou resists the urge to burrow his face in his hands, letting out a long sigh instead. His eyes wander to the top of the chalkboard.

Fourteen minutes.

When the teacher—finally, _finally_ —slams her binder shut and dismisses the class for the day, Shouyou quite literally jumps out of his seat in joy. He managed to not think about dicks—his own, nor Kageyama’s—even _once_ during the final quarter hour of the lesson. It’s a bit of a Pyrrhic victory, though: he exerted so much energy trying to not think about dicks that he didn’t take in a single word of the rest of the lecture. Shouyou shrugs. He tried for exactly one (1) minute, and look how that went; it’s not like he would’ve absorbed anything in the first place.

He won’t need to know anything about the unit circle when he goes pro, anyways.

Shouyou jaunts over to the gym, arm swinging happily at his sides, bag bouncing against his hip. He unlocks the doors, changing into his gym shoes before stepping onto the lacquered wood floor. They don’t have team practice on Saturdays, but he really needs to blow off some steam in a non-sexy way. Shouyou checks his phone before dropping it into his bag: three hours and four minutes until Kageyama will be over at his house. He’s gotta kill some time, or he worries that he really will inadvertently rip his dick off before Kageyama can even step into his house. And then all of his patience will have been for naught. Shouyou might be horny and desperate, but there's one thing that conquers even his most lascivious of desires: his competitiveness. He will not lose this war against himself—he _will_ make it to when Kageyama comes over at four o’clock. If his dick ever does fall off, it will be because someone _else_ touches him, so help him God. 

Shouyou shakes his head. Okay, it’s time to stop thinking about his dick falling off.

He changes into his training clothes and sets up the net faster than he thinks he ever has in his life. The next few minutes, he stretches—an absolute _necessity_ , but also a giant pain in the ass when all he wants to do is _hit_ —before running into the storage closet. Rolling the cart of balls onto the court, Shouyou takes one out and spins it between his fingers. His pre-serve routine is a bit different than Kagyeama’s: his hands align perpendicular to his body, unlike how Kageyama’s hands are, like, two slices of bread and the ball the sandwich meat. Still, Shouyou thinks that he looks pretty cool. The routine also really is helpful for resetting his focus—getting his head in the serving zone. Shouyou’s only been working on jump serves for the past few months or so, and while his power is still limited, his aim’s been getting better by the day. Kageyama has yet to explicitly praise him about them, though, so he has to keep working at it.

Shouyou takes a few steps back, spinning the ball again before catching it between his palms. He breathes in, then tosses it into the air. Muscles bunching, he runs forward and leaps, arm swinging down before he can so much as process it. His palm slaps against hard leather; the ball sails over the net and smacks against the back right corner of the court. Shouyou lands on the floor and pumps his arms in the air, a smile breaking across his face. That one was pretty nice! Not the strongest, but he’s barely warmed up. He’s got plenty more chances.

Shouyou spends the next god-knows-how-long hitting serves in the gym. Time slips away whenever he practices on his own—everything except the ball and the court fading to nothing in this liminal space. Which is incredibly nice when, you know, time is the very thing that’s been crushing his spirits (and his balls) all of this week. His thoughts of Kageyama and what’s to come flit through his mind, but they’re easily overridden as he prepares for his next jump or the positioning of his arm. He switches to setting drills as a short reprieve at some point, but, again, he’s finally not constantly checking the clock. Here, Shouyou tunes in to the beat of his heart, the rate of his breath, and the ache of his muscles to tell him when it’s time to stop.

When his legs tremble after he lands from a jump, Shouyou decides to call it a day. Wiping the sweat off of his brow with his shirt, he quickly scampers around with the cart and throws the balls into the gaping pit. He unstrings the net, wipes down the floors, and throws on some proper winter gear in under five minutes. His muscles might be screaming with exhaustion, but now that he’s tuned back into reality, his mind is back online, his thoughts running and bleeding into each other like waves out on the open ocean. And when he thinks fast, he moves fast—inadvertently converting his inner musings into energy. He thinks that if this were actually possible, humans would stop burning so many fossil fuels. The most efficient renewable energy source: Shouyou Thought Power.

Chuckling to himself, he takes a glance back at the clock on the far wall. Two hours and fifteen minutes until Kageyama time.

Sliding the doors closed, Shouyou locks up the gym and hops down the stairs. The winter wind is as unforgiving as ever, chilling his nose and cheeks and ears. He shuffles around in his bag and plops a pair of earmuffs onto his head, solving one of these problems.

Unlocking his bike, Shouyou straddles the seat before flicking his foot back, the kickstand springing up to hug the frame. He sets off, eager to get home and freshen up.

The ride over the mountains today feels a bit different. Not only because there’s still daylight out—though that’s an experience he usually only ever has on Saturdays, too. No, now that he’s out of the volleyball headspace, the restlessness that he felt during school hours has returned—a constant thrum under his veins that’s both exhilarating and nerve wracking. Being on the bike helps externalize some of the energy, but it’s still present, tingling from the top of his ears to the tips of his toes. It’s not quite an unpleasant feeling, but he still has the urge to outrun (outbike?) it—like if he even rests for a moment, it’ll swallow him whole. Shouyou clicks a gear up, the chain snapping to a higher resistance beneath him.

He’s definitely nervous, his stomach flipping in the way that it still sometimes does before a big game or when confronting someone significantly taller than him. And he’s still mad at his brain for making this out to be such a big _deal_ when he doesn’t even _know_ if anything more’s going to happen. And really, more than anything, he just wants to see Kageyama—this is the longest they’ve been apart since getting together. Shouyou misses their witty banter, their daily races, their one-on-one practices. He misses Kageyama’s perfect sets, his eternally furrowed brow, his soft smiles.

Shouyou shakes his head, the wind echoing loudly in his ears. He’s starting to think sappy thoughts, and that’s gross, because it’s Kageyama. They might be dating now, but that doesn’t mean that Kageyama has the right to—

Something beeps at him from behind, and Shouyou startles, swerving to his left. A car zips past him, leaving a puff of exhaust and a shock of cold wind in its wake. 

Okay, so Shouyou almost just died because he drifted too far into the middle of the road while thinking about Kageyama. Excessive physical exertion to cease the thoughts time! Hiking his gear up another two clicks, Shouyou pedals harder, legs screaming in pain as he reaches the top of the hill. 

He does, in fact, succeed in slowing his thoughts down, his focus directed towards maintaining a steady breath and pace. Heat begins to build again beneath his jacket; fresh sweat forms and combines with the stale sweat from the gym under his armpits. Shouyou cringes at the chalky sensation. He definitely needs to take a shower when he gets home.

A couple more minutes of intent focus later, Shouyou reaches the bottom of a hill, readying himself to turn. As he prepares to hook a right, a car flies right past him—this one not even bothering to beep. Shouyou stops hard, fingers squeezing around the metal brakes. Where the hell did _that_ come from? He looked both ways, too! He huffs an irritated breath and starts biking again. Thoughts or no thoughts, it seems that he’s destined to suffer.

He finally makes it home, somehow still in one piece. His mother would be proud. Locking his bike to the tree out front, Shouyou walks into the house, shedding his winter gear layer by layer until he’s left in just his practice clothes and socks. And P.U., does he _stink!_ He sprints up the stairs, tugging off his shirt in the process.

Shouyou flicks on the shower, shucking off his lower layers. Despite their old house up in the mountains, they’re blessed with incredibly quick heating. By the time that he’s chucked his clothes into the laundry bin and gathered a set of pajamas to change into, steam has filled the small bathroom. Shouyou sucks in a deep breath, letting the droplets of warmth collect at the bottom of his lungs, before stepping under the spray. The hot water feels _fantastic_ against his skin, his muscles instantly relaxing. He shuts his eyes as his hair begins to flatten against his forehead—his bangs so long now that they get in the way of his vision, especially when wet. He should get a haircut soon. Maybe Miwa will be around for New Years. A free trim, plus being able to tease at Kageyama along with his sister? Sounds like a perfect plan.

Shouyou peeks an eye open to locate his shampoo, dropping a big dollop in his hand that he then rubs between his palms. He ducks his head out of the way of the spray and tangles his fingers into his shaggy locks. Miwa’s also actually the one who recommended him this shampoo: when they first met, Shouyou somehow let it slip that he used 3-in-1 shampoo, conditioner, and body wash, and she looked like she was going to faint on the spot. She told him about this cheap but quality brand—“Made perfectly to suit the waviness of your hair; really, it’ll be so much softer.” Shouyou wrote it down in his notes app, but had forgotten about it by the time that their conversation ended. Then Kageyama showed up the next week at school with a little baggie for him—packed neatly with a bottle of shampoo and conditioner—and Shouyou’s been using the stuff since.

He definitely felt a difference in his hair’s texture after a week of applying the new stuff, and the next time that Kageyama grabbed at his head angrily, Shouyou teased, “Is it softer than it used to be, Kageyama-kun?” Kageyama looked at him quizzically for a few beats, so Shouyou continued, “I’ve been using the shampoo and stuff you so graciously brought me last month, hehe. Though I guess Miwa-san was the one who probably gave it to you. She’s my favorite Kageyama now; she’s actually nice to meeee.” Kageyama gripped his hair harder— _ow ow ow ow ow—_ but let go after a second, whipping around.

“It’s the same ugly mop it’s always been,” he muttered before storming into the storage room. They began dating less than a month later, and Kageyama eventually (and unexpectedly) told Shouyou his real answer one night when they were hanging out in Kageyama’s room.

The whole “physical contact outside of volleyball” thing was still pretty new, and Shouyou absolutely _loved_ it, but Kageyama was a bit more hesitant, especially towards making any first moves. Luckily for him, Shouyou’s a man of _action_ : that night, he plopped his head down into Kageyama’s lap, grabbed his wrist, and set one of his hands atop his hair.

“Pet me,” Shouyou said, his eyes slipping shut.

Kageyama’s body completely stiffened in that moment, his hand jerking back reflexively. Shouyou felt his gut begin to twist—too forward, too fast?—when fingers threaded tentatively through his locks, not even grazing his skull. Shouyou’s shoulders dropped, and he nuzzled further up against Kageyama’s thigh. When his hair had remained devastatingly unpet for a few more moments, Shouyou reached behind himself blindly until his hand found Kageyama’s, then moved it back to atop his head. “Again.”

Kageyama twisted his fingers into Shouyou’s hair, a little less cautious that time. He kept going, and Shouyou melted—happy and content. What made it even better was that he could tell that Kageyama was relaxing with each stroke, too. Just as he began slipping out of consciousness, his thoughts fuzzy at the edges, Kageyama said from above: 

“It’s ... softer.” 

Shouyou hummed quizzically, not connecting the dots thanks to the sleepiness clogging his brain.

“Your hair. It’s softer than it used to be.” Shouyou instantly recalled his earlier question and smiled. Turning from his side to his back, Shouyou blinked open his eyes. Kageyama was looking down at him, quickly averting his gaze. But Shouyou had still caught a glimpse of the blush on his cheeks, the soft edges around his eyes. Kageyama stopped petting his hair, hand resting limply on the crown on his head.

Shouyou reached up with his arm, fingers catching along Kageyama’s bangs. “Your hair has always been soft naturally.” He twirls a short lock near Kageyama’s temple around his finger. “I do miss the fringe, though.” Kageyama glared down at him, the classic furrow between his brows in place once more.

“But,” Shouyou continued before he could get a word in, “you look nice like this, too. Choppyama.” Kageyama dropped a fist firmly into his navel, and Shouyou huffed a breath from the impact. He giggled lightly as Kageyama continued to leer at him, a fresh blush blooming on his cheeks.

“You can’t just _say_ shit like that, dumbass...” he grumbled, hand pulling at Shouyou’s hair. Shouyou stuck his tongue out at him. 

“Well, I did. And besides, you started it.”

Kageyama shoved Shouyou’s shoulder forward, jerking his torso away from his neck awkwardly. Shouyou got the hint and rolled back onto his side, where his gaze could no longer reach Kageyama. Long fingers began carding through his hair once more, and Shouyou remembers drifting off, a light feeling in his chest, warmth enveloping his veins...

Shouyou snaps out of the memory as he moves back under the spray, scrubbing the shampoo out of his hair with frantic fingers. He can feel suds flying off in globs off of his locks, but he doesn’t care. He wants! To feel! Kageyama’s! Touch! Right Now! He groans as he reaches for his conditioner, the sound echoing off the tiled walls of the bathroom. Squeezing a dollop into his hand, he rubs it haphazardly through his curls, letting out a whine in the process.

Shouyou rinses out the conditioner, frustration still mounting. How _dare_ Kageyama lord this much power over him? How dare he get Shouyou to _care_ so much about him that he’s yearning so pitifully like this? And they’re literally dating—he thought that the yearning phase was _over!_

Shouyou has, of course, over the years spread his attention over many a people, the naturally amiable person that he is. He’s got a great relationship with his family, many friends, and even his teachers typically like him despite his academic ineptitude. So why, of all people, is Kageyama the one that Shouyou just can’t get out of his head? Why does it sometimes feel like not just his attention but his whole _being_ is dedicated to the existence of Kageyama Tobio?

He knows the answer to this already, as agonizing as it is to admit. He can tell that his manic energy isn’t just from a place of lust—he genuinely _really_ misses Kageyama, and that’s not a feeling he’s used to. Shouyou operates by simultaneously living in the moment while always looking ahead—being present to progress towards the future, if that makes any sense. But when he’s with or thinking about Kageyama in any capacity off of the court, time slows and his senses warp—every moment special, every emotion heightened.

Shouyou thinks that this is what falling in love probably feels like.

The prospect terrifies him as much as it excites him.

He realizes that they’re still in their “honeymoon” phase or whatever his mother called it. But while their romantic endeavors only began a handful of weeks ago, they’ve been partners for so much longer. Shouyou thinks that these feelings have been around since even as early as first year, but then were subconsciously shoved into the Feelings Box—that one in the corner of his brain that he wraps in chains and seals closed with twenty padlocks. Kageyama was his partner on and off the court, but not like that. Shouyou didn’t realize that _that_ was an option ... until it was. And then it proceeded to take over his brain with a vengeance—as though in retaliation for all of his years of neglect.

But also falling in love implies that he had higher ground to stand on in the first place, and that’s certainly not how this happened. No, the issue was that he started face down in the dirt—physically gifted but naive and unpolished—and Kageyama gave him the wings to stand up and soar, gave him the push that’s let him reach for the top.

So it’s the opposite, really.

Does being in love feel like flying?

Shouyou sighs as he squirts a hefty amount of body wash into his palm. Back on his metaphor bullshit! He really wasn’t such a poet before Kageyama—most of his thoughts the mental equivalent of his verbal squawks. Maybe volleyball isn’t his destiny after all. His inescapable fate is to become the next Edgar Allen Poe. 

Smiling, Shouyou takes a step away from the spray. He wants to be extra squeaky clean in case they do anything ... new tonight. Rubbing his hands together, Shouyou heaves another sigh. Oh, God, his mind’s swung in the thirsty direction yet again. These days, it feels like he only has three settings: volleyball, ushy-gushy-feely-weely, and horny. Every five minutes to few hours, his brain puts them on a wheel and spins it to decide which he then focuses on for the next allotted amount of time. God, he’s exhausted. He lives in a hell of his own design.

As Shouyou rubs his hands along his arms and chest and back, his skin prickles under his touch, his restlessness from earlier returning. What if his hands were Kageayama’s? Not even in a sexual way, just ... Kageyama’s hands, lathered in soap, scrubbing off Shouyou’s dirt and grime from the day. He’d certainly have an easier time reaching behind—Shouyou would just have to turn around, and Kageyama would lay his palms flat on his shoulder blades. They’d probably take up the entire expanse of his back, with how long his fingers are. Shouyou’s hands move to the lower half of his spine, sliding down his waist and wrapping around the crest of his pelvis to caress the divot of his groin...

Okay, absolutely in a sexual way. 

Shouyou steps back under the torrent of water, letting the suds that cling to his upper half slide off of his skin and into the drain. He cracks open his eyes to glance downwards—glaring at his dick hardening before his eyes. Shouyou’s honestly surprised that he hasn’t been hit with a shower fantasy this week. But maybe it’s because most of the showers he’s taken have either been:

1.) to wash off the leftover come on himself after jerking it in his bedroom,

or 

2.) frigid cold as to get him to _stop_ thinking about touching himself.

(He really is only half-joking about the dick falling off thing. The urges have been so ruthlessly frequent, even for him, that he had to literally _cool_ _it_ a few times this week. Anyways, Shouyou, _please_ _stop thinking about your dick falling off._ )

Rubbing the last of the soap off of his palms, Shouyou brings a hand to rest lightly on the line along his groin. The delicate touch causes his muscles to jump, the coil in his gut tightening. Shouyou lets out a breath and slides his hand lower until his fingertips are skimming the side of his balls. Despite the warm water enveloping him, he shivers at the touch. He starts moving around his sack, his fingers dipping down to the bottom before running up the seam, then dropping back down on the other side.

Does Kageyama play with his balls when he jacks off? He said that he’s only started recently, and it took Shouyou a while to figure out that they were just as sensitive as the shaft. Boys grow up their entire lives living in fear of being kicked down there that Shouyou thinks he’d subconsciously always given them a negative connotation. Maybe he can guide Kageyama’s hand to his sack, have him cup them with his broad palm and long fingers. He’d ask for Kageyama to squeeze gently but intently, and Kageyama would probably be hesitant but go through with it anyways because he asked. Shouyou mimes the action of his thoughts, squeezing with less force than normal, because Kageyama would definitely falter on the first try.

“I can take it, Kageyama,” Shouyou whispers aloud. “Harder.”

Kageyama scowls at him but complies, and Shouyou lets out a grunt as he grips himself tighter. He rubs one of his fingers up and down the seam of the sack, and a string of hot breaths leaves him at the fiery sensation. 

“I can’t see anything I’m doing, dumbass,” Kageyama says, taking a small step back. Shouyou feels a blush bloom in his chest as Kageyama, gripping the side of the tub, slowly lowers himself to his knees.

“Much better,” Kageyama says, a slight smirk on his lips. His gaze quickly lowers, focused intently at Shouyou’s crotch. “So can I use my mouth, too?”

Shouyou nods. “Just be careful with your teeth.” If Kageyama were actually here, Shouyou would move his hand to his hair, run his fingers through Kageyama’s dark locks. God, he can’t wait for when, in a few hours, he’ll be able to do exactly that.

Kageyama leans forward and ducks down, pressing his lips right along the center. He continues peppering open-mouthed kisses along his balls, to the left, towards the underside, on the right; Shouyou’s finger traces the route. His tongue peaks out and licks at the right one—Shouyou inhales sharply at the imagined sensation.

“More,” he breathes. Kageyama looks up at him—his pupils blowing wider—and smirks. 

“Greedy,” he mumbles playfully before licking a flat stripe right up the middle of Shouyou’s sack. Shouyou firmly presses two fingers to the divot and drags them up, his first real moan of the night rumbling in his chest and echoing off the walls of the tiny stall.

“Okay, that was good,” Shouyou says, “but I meant more, like, touch my dick more.”

Kageyama grimaces at him, a flush rising on his cheeks. Somehow his voice remains level, though, when he says, “How about I do you one better?” Shouyou has less than a second to prepare himself before Kageyama’s hand wraps around his base and guides his dick between his lips. Following his imagination accordingly, Shouyou reaches down and encircles his tip with his fingers, a breathy gasp leaving his lips. (Yes, his brain is creating the scene. No, he has no idea where it’s ever going to go until it happens. It’s nice being able to surprise yourself.)

Kageyama sucks lightly, and Shouyou rubs his thumb around his slit in circles, varying his speed and pressure. When Kageyama sinks lower, Shouyou’s hand follows his path. He jerks himself slowly up and down the first few inches of his length; Kageyama’s head bobs along at the same speed. Once he’s settled into a rhythm, Shouyou remembers where his other hand is and draws circles around his left ball. The combination of sensations rips a moan from his lips, followed by a few shaky breaths. When he squeezes his balls, he imagines that his hands are a bit broader, his fingers a bit longer.

“Fuck,” he whispers, cupping himself again as his other hand speeds up along his dick. Being in the shower really does help his fantasy come to life—the warm water under his fingers akin to what Shouyou thinks a mouth could feel like. But, still, Kageyama’s right, he’s _greedy,_ he wants _more—_

Shouyou reaches out and tugs down on the handle in the shower; within a few seconds, the water goes from warm to scalding as it rains down on his skin. Shouyou releases himself for a moment to let the spray strike his dick—perhaps painfully hot, but Shouyou’s too far gone to care. Kageyama stops bobbing his head and steadies himself a ways down. With an exhale, he rubs his tongue along the underside of Shouyou’s shaft—right where it’s the most sensitive. Shouyou strokes himself in the same manner, hand flying wildly over his head, the ridges of his calloused fingers adding just a bit of extra friction—

With a final tug down on his balls, Shouyou comes, long stripes painting the white, tiled wall. Kageyama’s mouth—Shouyou’s hand, whatever—slows down on his dick, pumping slowly along the whole length rather than concentrating rapidly at the top. An erratic string of breaths leaves him, his ribs trembling. His body fills with warmth, his veins tingly and light. After a few moments, he comes back down to earth, the hot water sizzling against his incredibly sensitive skin. Shouyou yanks the shower off, then forces himself to inhale, sucking the air to the bottom of his lungs. He stands there, steadying his breath until the warmth from his orgasm and the shower wears off—the remaining droplets on his skin chilling him to the bone.

Prying open his eyes, Shouyou blinks a few times before reality comes into focus again. His gaze meets the shower handle, flits up to the come on the wall, then flicks down to his body.

Ah, shit, he never scrubbed down his lower half.

Throwing his head back, Shouyou groans and begrudgingly turns the shower back on to a lukewarm spray. He soaps up and down his legs first, not yet wanting to touch himself where he’s still uber sensitive. With a new, smaller pump of body wash, Shouyou reaches behind himself. A rush of giddy awkwardness floods through his veins as he rubs his hand over his entrance, a wobbly smile forming on his lips. He does this every time he showers—because hygiene is _sexy_ —but the context just makes it so ... Shouyou shakes his head, poking his tongue out of his mouth before he can finish the thought.

With a thorough but quick swipe up and around his groin, Shouyou steps back under the spray. The soap washes down his legs and pools at his feet, moseying slowly towards the drain. He pulls the washcloth off of the sidebar and scrubs at the wall until there’s no more evidence left of his horny crimes.

Throwing the cloth atop the toilet seat, Shouyou steps out of the basin, dripping all over the bathroom rug. He grabs his towel from the hook and wraps it around himself, a shiver running up his spine. After drying off his body, he brings the towel up to his scalp and rubs it around—Natsu always tells him that he’s gonna go bald if he keeps drying his hair like this, but, hey, for now at least, he’s got some hair to spare.

Throwing his towel on the rack, Shouyou changes into his pajamas, topping off the get up with a baggie hoodie. He wipes his feet on the dry rug across the room before pulling on some fuzzy socks. Popping into the doorway of his bedroom, he chucks the washcloth into his laundry basket across the room; he does a little dance when it lands in the bin and adds pro basketball to his list of other promising careers. As he spins out of his room and begins padding down the stairs, he hums. What should he do next?

His stomach answers before he has time to contemplate, rumbling so loud that the noise echoes through the empty house. Damn, he really hasn’t eaten since breakfast, huh? Sucking in a quick breath, Shouyou’s pace quickens until he reaches the kitchen, throwing open the pantry doors in a flourish. Normally he’s really good at keeping his physical well-being in mind, but today he’s been a bit ... distracted.

Shouyou’s eyes roam over the shelves before deciding to snack on some _arare_. Plucking the bag out of the closet, he skips over to the _genkan_ and wrestles his phone out of his schoolbag. It lights up as he holds it up to his face, notifications littering the lock screen. A text from his Mom, a Snapchat from Natsu, a calendar reminder that reads “BAKAGEYAMA COMES HOME!!!!! 🥛🥛🏐➡️🏠.” Shouyou smiles as he plops onto the floor, scooting his butt forward until his legs are tucked nicely under the _kotatsu_. He’d forgotten that he’d set up that notification last week. Not that he would’ve ever forgotten the event itself, but it’s satisfying to see on paper. His heart squeezes with affection as he clicks a button on the remote to his left, warmth instantly filling the space under the table. He checks his phone again for the time—exactly twenty two minutes until Kageyama’s due over.

Shouyou’s eyes bug out at the screen. _So soon!_ Yet also so damn far away. The fact that Shouyou couldn’t keep it in his pants during the measly hour before Kageyama arrived is a shame that he will carry with him forever. But, depending on how the afternoon goes, it might have been necessary. Again, Shouyou is very cognizant of Kageyama’s boundaries and will absolutely not push him to do anything that he doesn’t want to, but if they _don’t_ end up doing anything and Shouyou hadn’t given himself a bit of relief just now, the night would’ve ended with his nuts falling off from blue balls, no joke. Shouyou groans. He would like his body to take a fucking chill pill, please! And if his brain could also stop thinking about his reproductive anatomy falling off, that would be great, too!

Shouyou sets his phone down and reaches for his bag of _arare_. Pouring a hefty pile atop his palm, he throws his head back and tips them into his gullet. God, he’s so hungry. After a full morning of school, exercise, and an orgasm, food has literally never tasted better.

Shouyou’s about to funnel a bunch of pieces directly from his bag into his mouth when a series of knocks sound from the front of the house. He startles, and the bag tips forward, spilling a flurry of _arere_ onto his face, which then slide gracefully off onto the _kotatsu_ blanket covering his lap. Swearing, Shouyou puts the bag on the table and starts to rub down the fabric, sweeping the miscellaneous pieces into his palm. Sufficiently collected, he shovels them into his mouth before sprinting to the _genkan_. He slips his feet into a pair of outdoor shoes—his heels crushing the backs of them flat to the sole—then stumbles forward and yanks the door open.

Kageyama gazes down at him from the front step, his knuckles poised to rap against the door again. His shocked expression morphs into a mild scowl as he lowers his arm. “Took you long enough, dumbass.”

Shouyou’s heart begins pitter-pattering in his chest at the sight of the familiar scrunched brow. He opens his mouth to reply, but promptly remembers that he just stuffed it full of snacks. Smacking his teeth together as quickly as he can, he takes a moment to just look at Kageyama. He’s honestly a bit disheveled—he’s breathing pretty hard, his hair sticking up in an abundance of cowlicks. It looks like he might’ve run here. He’s bundled up in full winter gear—the only skin visible the smooth planes of his face. His hand’s wrapped around the strap of his travel duffel, grip tightening as Shouyou’s eyes continue to roam around his body. Shouyou feels something in his chest bloom, filling his chest with a buoyant joy. Like a little Kageyama-shaped void in his heart had just finally been refilled.

Shouyou finishes chewing and tucks the gooey feelings away, glaring at Kageyama. “You’re the one who’s, like, twenty minutes early! What if I hadn’t even been home! You woulda been left on the doorstep to freeze to death.” His facade cracks with each word, the corners of his lips tugging upwards until he’s smiling like a fool. “You should be grateful I'm here at all. Patience is a virtue, Kageyama-kun.”

Kageyama’s scowl deepens. “You say that like you’ve ever been patient in your life. Which you haven't."

“I waited for you, didn't I?" He brings his arms up, poking his two pointer fingers into the dimples of his cheeks. With a splitting grin, he continues, "See? Epitome of patience. I am actually, in fact, perfect."

Kageyama’s lips twitch for a moment before they pull up into a full smile, and a new wave of warmth sweeps through Shouyou at the sight. The tension seems to drain out of his figure as he takes a step up and shoulders Shouyou out of the way, Shouyou squawking in protest.

“God, you’re the worst,” Kageyama says, pulling off his winter gear in the _genkan_.

Shouyou’s smile widens before he puts on a practiced pout, throwing his arms around Kageyama from behind as Kageyama’s pulling off his boots. “That’s no way to greet your _boyfriend_ who you _abandoned_ for the past _eight days_.”

It’s barely noticeable, but Shouyou feels it—Kageyama stiffens. He recovers quickly, though, sighing and moving his shoes to join the neat array of footwear lining the _genkan_. “So you’ve been counting?”

Shouyou’s pout deepens—and not just because of the jab. He’ll ignore the weird reaction for now, though. “You _weren’t_?” He unravels his arms from around Kageyama, toeing off his shoes before stepping up to the main floor. “Okay, I see how it is. You don’t care about me; I get it. You can put those boots right back on, mister, because you’re not taking another step into this house.”

Kageyama raises a brow. “Is that a challenge?” Shouyou puffs out his cheeks and shakes his head. He stretches his arms out, and his palms press flat against the wall on both sides of the narrow entryway—physically barring Kageyama from coming in any further.

“No challenge. No entry for meanies. It’s just how the law works.”

Kageyama rolls his eyes, the slight upward tilt of his lips belying his amusement. “Okay, then I’ll leave.” He leans over and reaches for one of his boots.

“ _Wait!_ ” Kageyama stops moving, eyes peeking at Shouyou through his lashes as he looks up. “You can atone for your sins. If said meany gives the guardian of the house a kiss, then they’re cleared of all meanie offenses and allowed to enter.” A grin curls on Shouyou’s lips. “It’s a small price to pay, I think.”

Kageyama frowns. While Shouyou can tell that the gaze is meant to be playful, again, Shouyou senses it—that stiff trepidation. Kageyama straightens, and with Shouyou on the upper platform of the house, they’re eye to eye. 

“Just one kiss?” Kageyama asks, gaze flitting to the side. 

Shouyou nods. “Well, only one for now. If you’re mean again while on the premises, you’ll have to restore the broken contract in the same way again.”

Kageyama gives him an exasperated look, but brings a hand up to cup the line of his jaw; Shouyou’s pulse jumps at the touch. “This is so dumb. You are so dumb,” Kageyama mumbles as he leans forward. Warm lips meet Shouyou’s before he can reply. Lashes fluttering shut, Shouyou exhales and relaxes into the kiss, his own hands snaking up Kageyama’s arms to rest at the base of his neck. But before he can fully enjoy it, Kageyama pulls back, his arm falling back down to his side. He swallows awkwardly, eyes flitting back down to the floor.

“Okay, now let me in, dumbass.” He tries to slip past Shouyou, but Shouyou flings his arms out again, palms smacking loudly against the walls of the entryway.

“No, not yet.” Shouyou leans forward, using the bit of extra height to his advantage to loom over Kageyama. “You’re being weird. Explain.”

Kageyama scoffs, ducking down to dip under Shouyou’s arm. “No, I’m not. And I’m getting cold.” Shouyou’s arm follows Kageyama as he bends over, his torso dipping to the left. 

“I’m not dumb like you, Bakageyama! You’ve been acting weird every time I touch you. Like, you flinched when I hugged you. And then just now, you pulled away in, like, half a second.” Kageyama keeps his gaze on the ground, and his lips twist into a frown. Shouyou’s head tilts to the side, his eyes narrowing at Kageyama in thought. He processes his own words from just now (because he doesn’t _think_ before he _speaks_ ), and a lightbulb clicks on in his mind. 

“Oh, is this about what we talked about on the phone the other day?” Shouyou asks, gaze softening. Kageyama’s eyes flicker back up to his for a moment before he straightens. Shouyou watches as he starts to fiddle with a loose thread on his sweatpants. He looks back up to Kageyama’s face, which is mildly pinched.

“It’s nothing,” he says, rolling the thread in between his fingers.

“No.” Shouyou presses his hands harder into the walls. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Kageyama’s jaw tightens as he looks at Shouyou, a mix of irritation and unease in his gaze. His gaze drifts to where Shouyou’s hand is pushing on the wall, and he takes a long, deep breath. Exhaling in a huff, his face flickers with thought—Shouyou can practically visualize the gears turning in his head. After a second, Shouyou relaxes his stance, dropping his arms. Sometimes Kageyama needs a bit of time to put his thoughts into words, and Shouyou is happy to wait—happy that Kageyama’s decided to talk about it at all, in the end.

But by the time he counts to twenty and Kageyama has still said nothing, he prompts gently, “Are you nervous?”

Kageyama doesn’t answer, but his eyes dart back over to Shouyou’s. His brow is still furrowed—his lips still turned down—and the unease in his gaze has grown, seeping into the lines around his eyes. Shouyou instinctively reaches down to the hand that has stopped mid-twirl around the loose thread, fingertips lightly touching the back of Kageyama’s knuckles. Kageyama doesn’t pull away, so Shouyou nudges his hand until Kageyama relaxes his grip. He slips their fingers together and brings their hands up to chest level. 

“Hey, there’s no rush,” Shouyou says softly. “I don’t expect anything from you tonight, and you shouldn’t expect anything from yourself.” He runs his thumb along the side of Kageyama’s pointer finger. “I’m just happy to see you.”

Kageyama huffs, gaze flickering from the ground to their hands to Shouyou’s face. He looks back down before he says, “I _know_ that, dumbass, but...” Brow pinching further, he lets out another frustrated breath, shifting his weight to the other foot.

“But it’s harder said than done,” Shouyou says, and Kageyama nods stiffly.

“And ... I do want to. You know. Tonight.” Kageyama’s eyes meet Shouyou’s before flitting away again. “I’m just...” He licks his lips, then lets out another sigh. They stand there in silence for the next few moments, the gears in Kageyama’s brain whirring like a 20th century computer fan. Shouyou’s about to prompt him again when Kageyama’s eyes suddenly widen, and he looks up at Shouyou. “Oh, and I’m happy to see you, too. Uh. I didn’t make that clear.”

Taking a few seconds to process the words, a grin soon splits across Shouyou’s face, giggles falling from his lips in tandem. Kageyama turns his head away, a blush creeping up his cheeks. “Nooo, Kageyama, lemme see you,” Shouyou says, tugging on his hand. Kageyama doesn’t comply. “I’m not laughing at you, I promise. You’re just ... really soft and sweet. So nice to me, sometimes.”

Kageyama glares at him from the side through his bangs. “I’m not _soft._ ”

Shouyou raises his brows. “Whatever you say, Softy-yama.”

Kageyama simply _glowers_ , and the smile on Shouyou’s face widens. He quickly schools himself, though, ready to get the conversation back on track. “Anyways. I know you’re nervous—and I’m nervous, too!—but you’re getting trapped in your head. I’m not gonna, like, jump your bones the second you properly walk into the house.” Shouyou pauses, eyes flicking to the ceiling in thought. “Well, I guess that’s _kinda_ what I did by making you kiss me earlier, but I promise that’s all I want for the moment. We’ve been over to each other’s places a bunch by now. Just ... think of tonight like any normal night, because that’s all it is. Two bros, hangin’ out.” He squeezes Kageyama’s hand again. “No rush at all.”

Kageyama’s face pinches in displeasure. “Please never call me a ‘bro’ again,” he laments, and Shouyou giggles.

“If not ‘bro,’ then how about ‘darling’?” 

Kageyama gives him a look, but a fresh blush colors his cheeks. “Stop talking.”

Shouyou laughs again. “Fine. But does that sound good? I’m honestly starving, so even if I _had_ wanted to do the do right this very second, I’d pass out from low blood sugar mid-do, so that’s off the table.” He tugs on Kageyama’s hand, encouraging him to step closer; he does. “So let’s just chill for a bit, okay? You’re probably hungry after all your travelling today, too.”

Kageyama nods. “Okay.” His voice leaves on an exhale, giving it a breathy quality. He swallows and breathes in before saying again, much more firmly, “Okay.”

“Good.” Shouyou gives him a close-lipped smile, one that reaches the corners of his eyes. They look at each other for a moment, Shouyou’s gaze searching. Kageyama seems much less jittery now, his brow only its usual degree of furrow and his eyes clear.

Suddenly, Kageyama’s free hand is cupping Shouyou’s face, and his lips press warm against Shouyou. Shouyou’s eyes shut naturally, reassured by the force of this kiss—much more insistent than their first one. He snakes his free hand around to the back of Kageyama’s neck, sliding up to tangle his fingers in the silky locks; Kageyama comes willingly when Shouyou pulls him forward. He exhales slowly through his nose, then pulls back as his breath trails off.

“It feels kinda weird when you’re the same height, doesn’t it?” he asks, his breath fanning against Shouyou’s lips. Shouyou smiles, running his hand through Kageyama’s hair.

“I dun know, I kinda like it,” he replies. “But you’re free to step up here and join me whenever...”

Kageyama huffs; Shouyou can picture him rolling his eyes. “You didn’t offer me any slippers. Bad host.”

Shouyou actually rolls his eyes, blinking them open. “OMG, no one else is home; I don’t care if you walk around in your stinky training camp socks.”

Kageyama’s eyes open, too, and he glowers before he steps up to join Shouyou on the main floor of the house. Shouyou’s palm slides down to the back of his neck, their linked hands lifting higher. “They’re not stinky. They were actually my last clean pair.”

Shouyou smiles, a dopey thing. Kageyama really is just _too_ _cute_ sometimes. “Well thank you for changing into your fancy socks for me, Kageyama-kun.”

“Shut up,” Kageyama huffs, diving back down. Shouyou smiles as their lips meet, and he can feel a hint of amusement on Kageyama’s lips, as well.

They break apart, and Shouyou disentangles their fingers, moving both of his arms to rest on Kageyama’s shoulders. They stare at each other for a moment, and Shouyou feels a swell of warmth bubble in his chest. It feels so nice to touch Kageyama again—even better now that they’ve cleared the tension in the air.

“Those were to make up for the first one, by the way,” Kageyama says, sliding his fingers further along Shouyou’s face and tangling them into his hair. His lips twist slightly, eyes flitting to the side. “Thank you.”

A hot blush rises on Shouyou’s cheeks, and his stomach twists into little knots—the soft earnesty in Kageyama’s voice incredibly overwhelming. “Thanks for talking to me about it.”

Kageyama nods, and his hand runs all the way through Shouyou’s curls before falling back to his side. Shouyou takes a step back, giving Kageyama a bit of space. “So, what do you want for dinner?”

Kageyama shrugs. “Whatever. I’m not picky.”

Shouyou chuckles. “I know.” He turns around and walks towards the kitchen, Kageyama on his heels. “I honestly don’t even know if there’s any food left in the house. Mom normally goes grocery shopping on the weekend, but, well, clearly she’s not here right now. I might just make some _yakimeshi_ with extra vegetables.” Shouyou opens the fridge and pulls out the vegetable drawer. An onion, a bunch of scallions, and a couple carrots litter the bottom of the compartment. In the meat drawer above it, a few pieces of ham and a handful of eggs are all that’s left. Shouyou nods. He can work with this. 

Kageyama peaks over his shoulder, his chest bumping lightly into Shouyou’s back. “Okay,” he says, eyes flicking around the fridge. His hair tickles Shouyou’s ear, and his hand comes to rest on Shouyou’s opposite shoulder. After another second, he takes a step back. Shouyou misses his touch already.

Shaking his head, Shouyou pulls out the ingredients for dinner, stacking them one by one in his arms. He dumps them on the counter across the room and moves to pluck the rice and rice cooker out of a cabinet. As he pours out a few cups and begins to fill the metal basin with water, he looks over his shoulder. Kageyama’s just standing there, a mildly constipated expression on his face as he stares at the counter.

“What?” Shouyou asks, eyes flitting back to the rice. 

Kageyama’s brow dips. “Can I ... help or something?” 

“Oh.” Shouyou’s gotten so used to cooking alone this week that he didn’t even consider asking Kageyama to lend a hand. But... “You’re the guest! Guests shouldn’t have to cook for themselves.”

Kageyama raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms. “And you’ve been the model of etiquette since when?”

Shouyou glares at him, cutting off the sink’s spray. “I’m _always_ this polite, Kageyama-kun. You’re just such a caveman brute that you never take notice of my benevolence.”

Kageyama rolls his eyes. “Yes or no to help, dumbass.” 

Shouyou looks at the array of ingredients on the counter. “It really won’t take much work. I can manage.” He starts swirling his hand around in the bowl, washing the rice. “But thank you for asking. Tell me about training camp instead! Any particularly awesome first years?”

Kageyama leans back against the counter, eyes flicking to the ceiling in thought. “I mean, everyone was good. There was this one first year who was two meters tall and had a crazy high jump. As long as he had a good toss, he could hit it over the block.” Shouyou nods, grains of rice tickling his fingers. Being two meters with a high hitting point ... an iota of jealousy wraps around his heart before he lets it slip through him like sand through fingers. He’s gotten a lot better at not letting things like that consume him. After years of dealing with the same challenges—years of acknowledging his limitations—he’s learned that it’s entirely unhelpful to fixate on what he can’t control. And while it’s natural to want what other people have, Shouyou can now take solace in recognizing his own strengths—focusing on what he has rather than what he doesn’t. He still can’t plow forward with this mindset all of the time (see: earlier this week), but he’s trying, and he’ll get there one day. One day, it’ll be as instinctual as it is for Kageyama to call him “dumbass.” 

Shouyou finishes washing the rice and starts chopping up the vegetables as Kageyama continues parsing through his week, throwing in a question here and there to keep Kageyama going. Contrary to popular belief, Shouyou can take a step back and listen sometimes—especially when Kageyama’s the one talking. God, he could listen to Kageyama talk for hours; his voice is so low and rich and cozy. Natsu recently told him about this new phenomenon called ASMR where people on Youtube just upload videos of them quietly talking into a high-def mic. Shouyou didn’t really like the preview Natsu played him—gave him the heebee jeebees—but Kageyama ASMR ... a business model that he’d certainly support. He’d go full capitalist for Kageyama.

Besides, Kageyama might’ve known a lot of the second and third years, but that doesn’t mean that he talked to them outside of volleyball. He’s very much the type to have a small circle of trusted confidants and only ever truly open up—“pull the stick out of his ass,” as some might say—around those select people. And Shouyou is very lucky and grateful to be one of them. He’s plenty eager to listen as Kageyama lets out the many thoughts that have likely been stewing around in his brain alone for the past week.

As Shouyou turns on the stove—all the vegetables and meat chopped up into little piles—Kageyama finishes a story about one of his practice matches, trailing off. Shouyou thinks of where to take the conversation—preparing a question on his tongue—when Kageyama suddenly asks, “Can I take a shower?” After a long pause, “Sorry, that must’ve seemed random. But I just feel gross from travelling all day.”

Shouyou looks over his shoulder and smiles. “Yeah, of course! There are towels under the sink. This’ll be done in like five to seven minutes, though, so go quick!”

Kageyama nods, pushing off of the counter. “Will do. Thanks.” He slips out of the room before Shouyou can reply. He turns back to the stove, watches the blue flames flicker to orange. That was kinda weird and abrupt, but Kageyama’s valid. Why suffer through the evening coated in his grit and grime when Shouyou’s shower is right there? He reaches over the counter and pinches the rice cooker bowl by the lip with two fingers, his hands tucked into his hoodie. Hot hot hot! 

Shouyou puts the rice on an unlit burner next to him and dumps the vegetables into the pan first. An eruption of sizzles sounds from the metal, molecules of oil popping up and forming a layer of mist over the skillet. Shouyou turns the heat down a bit, shaking the handle to get the pieces to settle. 

While the crackling of fresh food isn’t bad ambient noise, Shouyou’s already missing Kageyama’s background anecdotes. Like, yes, King, tell him more about how a first year tripped on a ball and face-planted into your tits! Shouyou smirks, flipping the vegetables in the pan. After all, _he_ doesn’t need the God of Fortune on his side for his face to end up in Kageyama’s chest. OMG, maybe after dinner they can snuggle ... Shouyou’s fingers twitch at his side at the thought. Wow, he is so needy! But Kageyama signed himself up for this when he agreed to date soooo...

Shouyou plucks a spatula from the Big Utensils Jar at the side of the stove and splits the rice in half. He flips it into the pan, the fresh scent mixing with the aromas of the kitchen. He begins humming idly, tapping his foot to the beat of his jingle. Shouyou is nothing if not good at entertaining himself. 

Just as he’s cracking the last egg into the pan, he hears footsteps padding down the stairs. _Thump thump thump thump_. Caveman-yama. Zero sense of decorum. Shouyou giggles.

“What are you laughing at?” Kageyama asks as he comes into the kitchen, fully dressed with a towel around his shoulders. Shouyou shrugs, stirring the eggs into the rice.

“Just thinking about how you have the grace of Godzilla. Coming down those stairs like you were on your way to Tokyo—monstrous footsteps pounding against the ground as to strike fear into the hearts of all Japanese citizens.”

“Shut up, you’re literally louder.” Kageyama joins him at the side of the stove and smacks the back of his head. “Short and dense-ass dumbass.”

Shouyou whips the spatula out of the pan, pointing it at Kageyama like a knife. “I’ll kill you.” He turns back to the stove, flipping a heap of rice over. “But you said I’m dense, too, oho. Paying attention to my muscles lately, Kageyama-kun?”

Kageyama clicks his tongue then sighs, crossing his arms. Shouyou leans in closer and wiggles his eyebrows. “Jealous of my cake, are you?”

Kageyama’s eyebrows furrow. “How does cake have to do with muscles?”

Shouyou lets out a little scream of delight, quickly transitioning into a fit of giggles. Sweet, old man Kageyama. Kageyama punches him, but he barely budges, his legs already tensed in preparation for the predictable backlash. 

“Tell me.”

“Well, Kageyama-san,” Shouyou says, “kids these days say ‘cake’ when referring to the buttocks. Because when it is plump and soft, people wanna eat it.”

Kageyama wrinkles his nose, a flush rising on his cheeks, and Shouyou starts laughing again. “You can’t make that face when you’re the one who asked!” 

“I can make whatever faces I want, Hinata- _boke_ ,” Kageyama replies, ramming into his shoulder aggressively. Shouyou stumbles a bit this time but straightens up easily. His eyes flit down to the pan; the eggs have congealed nicely around the rice and veggies.

“Dinner’s dooooone,” Shouyou sings. He turns off the stove and moves the food to an unlit burner. Plucking two bowls from the cabinet, he hands one to Kageyama, along with the spatula. “You can serve yourself first. I’ll take what’s left.”

“No, dumbass, you’re the one who’s more hungry. You go first.” 

Shouyou glares at him, lips thinning into a line. “You’re the guest!”

“And, as the guest, I’m telling you to serve yourself first!” Kageyama shoves the spatula against his chest. A couple grains of rice fly off of the metal and stick to Shouyou’s hoodie. Shouyou’s glare narrows, but he moves to grip the handle.

“Fine.” He yanks it out of Kageyama’s hand and shoves it to the bottom of the pan, picking up a heaping scoop; tendrils of heat well up from the pile, spinning frantic spirals in the air before dissipating. Splitting the pan so he takes just about half, Shouyou hands the spatula back to Kageyama before putting his bowl on the counter. “What do you wanna drink?”

“Water’s fine,” Kageyama says as he takes his portion, frowning at the stove. “I’m leaving part of this for when you inevitably complain that you’re still hungry after you finish your first serving.” 

“Shut up,” Shouyou says, grabbing two cups out of the cabinet. He can just _feel_ Kageyama roll his eyes behind him, and Shouyou whips around to stick his tongue out at him. Kageyama raises an eyebrow as he pulls out two sets of chopsticks for them. He grabs Shouyou’s bowl off of the counter and pads out the doorway towards the living room. Shouyou glares at the tiny-ass stream of water that spews out of the refrigerator door—he _pees_ faster than this, for Christ’s sake! After waiting for what feels like twenty years for the cups to fill to the top, he skips into the living room, some water splashing onto his hands as he rushes over.

Kageyama’s made himself comfortable under the _kotatsu_ ; he’s also arranged their bowls and chopsticks neatly on the table. Shouyou hands him a glass and plops down, wiping his own cup on the blanket before setting it on a coaster. Kageyama gives him an incredulous look before wiping his own on his shirt, then taking a sip.

Shouyou picks up his chopsticks and waits for Kageyama to do the same. “Thank you for the food,” they say in unison before digging in. Shouyou certainly doesn’t cry as he takes the first bite, but he definitely groans. God. Food is so good. Why didn’t he eat more today? He is a fool.

“Knew you were starving, dumbass,” Kageyama says after he chews and swallows his first bite. Shouyou’s currently shoveling enormous quantities of _yakimeshi_ down his throat, so he can’t reply, but he does glare out of the corner of his eye. They eat in silence as Shouyou placates his ravenous appetite.

Once he’s reached the bottom, Shouyou sets his bowl back down on the counter with a happy sigh. By the looks of it, Kageyama’s still got a few hefty bites left. Shouyou plants his hands on the ground behind him and leans back, eyes flicking to the ceiling. “Is the food at camp good?”

Kageyama shrugs, munching. After he swallows, he says, “It’s alright. Food is food.”

Shouyou laughs, his shoulders shaking. That _is_ something that Kageyama would say. His gaze flits back up, catching on a cobweb in the corner of the room. Should he clean the house before his family gets back? He’s sure that his mom would give him extra kisses for that. Maybe he can rope Kageyama into cleaning with him. Who needs sex? Why be nasty when you can sweep up the nasty instead? Ba dum tsss. Shouyou smiles at his own bad joke, his fingers drumming on the floor behind him.

“I hate that you’re right,” he says after a few moments, staring back down at Kageyama. Kageyama hums a questioning note. “I’m still hungry.” As he stands up with his bowl, Kageyama gives him a _told-you-so_ kind of look, and Shouyou blows a raspberry as he passes him by. He enters the kitchen and picks up the skillet, scraping the rest of the _yakimeshi_ into his dish before shimmying back to the living room.

Kageyama’s finished his portion, yet he’s staring down at the bottom of his bowl like it’ll tell him the secrets of the universe if he glares at it hard enough. His brow is incredibly pinched—more so than usual—and Shouyou slips back under the _kotatsu_ before saying, “You’re overthinking something.”

Kageyama’s brow scrunches impossibly further before he turns his gaze to Shouyou. He looks like he wants to retaliate but can’t because Shouyou’s right. 

“It’s fine.”

Shouyou’s lips twist—he’s just so clearly _lying_ —but he thinks that he knows what it’s about. He can steer the conversation naturally in the right direction instead of having to pry it out of Kageyama, probably. Taking a bite of _yakimeshi_ , he turns a question over on his tongue before saying:

“Would you mind telling me more about the thing you talked about over the phone?”

Kageyama’s head tilts to the side a little. “What thing specifically?”

Shouyou plants his forearms on the table, leaning forward. “The non-attraction thing. How you just never wanted to _do_ anything much before now.” He taps a finger on the table a couple of times. “Of course, only if you’re comfortable with telling me. I guess it’s just really different from what I’ve experienced, and I’m curious!”

Kageyama bites his lip and looks off to the side. He’s wearing his thinking face—which is much better than an uncomfortable one. 

“I feel like I explained it on the phone pretty much,” he starts. “Uh, I don’t really look at a person and ever immediately feel...”—his nose scrunches, and he gestures vaguely by waving his hand back and forth over the table—“ _fwaaah_ , as you’d probably describe it.” Shouyou smiles, nodding in understanding. “I’m not _blind,_ though. I can generally tell when I find someone attractive or not, but that’s never led to me wanting to _do_ anything with them.” He flushes, glancing down at the empty bowl again. “My body doesn’t react to that kind of stuff, or the occasion that it does, it’s fleeting and I never _actually_ have to ... you know.” He pointedly gazes between his legs before immediately looking back up, cheeks flaming. 

Shouyou hums, propping an elbow on the table and squishing his cheek against his palm. “That’s just so”—he makes the verbal equivalent of a keysmash with his mouth—“to me, because I’ve always _been_ that classic over-hormonal teenager who’s sexuality manifested super early and had no idea what to do about it other than to”—he looks down at his crotch—“and whose poor parents had to talk to them about it once they realized that there was a bunch of jizz in their son’s socks.”

Kageyama looks at him with mild horror. “In your _socks_?” Shouyou blows a raspberry then laughs.

“I needed something to deal with the mess, and socks made clean up easy!” He drums his fingers on the table, gaze flitting to the ceiling. “Oh, and I’m not trying to make it sound like your or my experience is the ‘right’ or ‘better’ one, by the way.” Glancing back down, he catches Kageyama’s gaze. “I guess I’ve just never heard of anything like what you feel. Then again, it’s not like I go around talking to people about this on the regular either.”

Kageyama nods, eyes moving back down to his bow. “Yeah, I mean. I think I understand where you’re coming from better because people make it out to be like most teenagers have your levels of...” His mouth twists, and he gesticulates vaguely at Shouyou.

While Shouyou is genuinely trying to get Kageyama to open up, their relationship is also about them being little shits to each other, so he says, wiggling his eyebrows, “Levels of what, Kageyama-kun? Enlighten me.”

Kageyama glares at him, nostrils flaring. “You know.”

Shouyou bats his lashes at him. “No, I don’t.”

Kageyama stares at him with disgust for a few moments before he says, “Sexual ... desire.”

Shouyou huffs out a breath, breaking into giggles. “Oh my God, so clinical!” Kageyama leans over the table and hits him on the side of the head; Shouyou lets him because he totally deserved it. 

“Shut up, you asked.” 

Shouyou shrugs. “You’re right.” He takes a bite of his food—now gone cold, but that’s okay. This conversation’s more important. “So is that part of why you’re so nervous right now? Feeling like you’ve been thrown into a situation that you know basically nothing about, with no way of controlling it in the usual meticulous way that you’re used to?” He keeps his tone extremely light, genuinely curious rather than judgemental.

Kageyama glares at him—once again less with malice, more like he’s angry that Shouyou’s on the money. “Y-yeah. Kinda.” He folds his hands on the table and looks down at them. A flush spreads across his cheeks all the way up to his ears. “I know that we took a while to get better at the ... kissing stuff, but I was pretty comfortable with it the whole time. Like, I’d wanted to kiss you for a while.” Shouyou has to bite back and audible _awww_ , knowing that now’s not the time. It’s still incredibly sweet, though.

Instead, he reaches across the table and butts his fingertips into one of Kageyama’s hands. Kageyama unclenches his fist and slides them between Shouyou’s, their fingers steepling. He looks away again, this time at his half-filled water glass. “But I don’t think that the stuff _beyond_ kissing is gonna come as naturally to me. Like, do I want it? In theory. But”—he looks over again, the intensity of his glare tempered by the way that he’s completely flushed red—“don’t laugh, or I’ll kill you.” Shouyou nods once, encouraging. “I’ve done a ... fair amount of research on, uh, how to have sex.” His fingers tighten against Shouyou’s, and Shouyou squeezes lightly back. After the silence hangs in the air for a few moments, Shouyou lowers the arm on his face back to the table and leans forward.

“I promise I won’t laugh. And I know this is probably really awkward to talk about. But I really appreciate that you’re trying.”

Kageyama shifts in his seat. “I just don’t know how well I’m gonna do. I just ... want it to be nice for you. And I don’t want to hurt you.”

Shouyou feels his heart beat louder in his chest at his admission. God, Kageyama cares about him _so_ much. And while it’s evident in the way that their bond has developed, the way that they’ve sprung from the concrete together, it’s overwhelming—in the _best_ way—to hear it aloud. And what’s even better is that the feeling is fully mutual.

But even more than that, Shouyou knows Kageyama, and he can tell that this isn’t just coming from a place of difference in the way that they experience sexuality. He knows about middle school—about how it’s left a gaping pit of guilt in his heart because of how he treated his teammates, his friends. The way that he was left alone with his hurt because he had hurt others. He’s made leaps and bounds on and off the court with respect to his people skills—but that kind of trauma isn’t something that just disappears in a few years.

“Kageyama,” he starts, his voice thick because of all of the emotion lodged in his throat. “Firstly, you are _not_ going to hurt me. Because of course I’d let you know if you were even vaguely approaching that territory. But more so that because you would never. Not intentionally. And I would never fault you for a mistake.”

“But even as an accident...” Kageyama trails off, gaze still trained on his bowl. 

Shouyou gives him a look—kind but firm. “How many times do I have to tell you that nothing we do on the first try is ever going to be perfect?” He tugs Kageyama’s hand until he looks up at him. “Will we fumble? Yes. Will we _stumble_? Absolutely. Just like we did with the freak quick or the altered freak quick or anything new we’ve tried on the court since. I don’t want perfection from you; I want to know that you’re trying your best. And you’re Kageyama Tobio. I don’t even know if you’re even _capable_ of not trying your best when you set your mind to something you care about.” Shouyou smiles, mirth tinging the corners. “That’s why you suck so bad at things like school. Your brain is only so big, and you can only put your 100% into a few things, ‘cause we’ve all only got so much to give. And I know that this—us—is one of the things you give your all towards. I’ve known that from Day 1.” Shouyou feels a flush creep up on his neck and cheeks, completely caught off guard by basically everything that’s come out of his mouth. Like, yes, it’s all _true_ , but it’s one of those things that he _felt_ more than he _thought._ And put into words, it’s a lot. 

Kageyama looks up at Shouyou. He opens his mouth then closes it, as though at a loss for words. So Shouyou continues rambling, aiming to get to a point where Kageyama can find the words to butt in:

“And okay, again, really really not trying to pressure you here, but I’ve thought about you touching my dick, like, every hour since we hung up three nights ago, and at this point, you’d literally just have to, like, touch it with your pinky finger and I’d come all over your hand. You honestly won’t even have the _opportunity_ to hurt me if we decide to do anything because I will be finishing so fast, it’s like it didn’t even happen.” Shouyou watches Kageyama’s nose scrunch as his face fills with heat, eyes shutting like he’s conjuring Shouyou’s terrible imagery. Shouyou keeps going, digging this hole deeper, “I’ve already said this a couple times, but anything you do—especially since you’ve _researched_ , like, oh my God, that already puts you ahead of the entire idiot teenage population of the globe!—will feel so good. And if it doesn’t, I’ll _tell you_. And I—and you—will not get hung up on it and we’ll move on, because it’s not the end of the world. And I hope you’ll tell me, too, if I’m ever doing something that feels bad or just is too far past what you’re comfortable with— _anything—_ please let me know. It’s all new to us; even though you feel like you’re behind, you’re not. It won’t be perfect, but it’ll be good, because it’s us. And that’s more than enough for me.”

Shouyou sucks in a huge breath through his nose. God, he really doesn’t know how to keep it brief. (Or in his briefs. He mentally chuckles.) He’s honestly not that great at reassurance because people rarely come to him asking for emotional advice or the like; he’s a teenage boy—who the hell trusts the perspective of a teenage boy? But, for Kageyama, he’s always been—while incredibly wordy—to the point, slamming a barrage of words against his thick skull in hopes that some actually permeate through. It’s worked before, so he’s really hoping it’ll do its magic this time, too.

Kageyama glares harder down at the bowl, brow furrowing. His gaze flits to their linked fingers, then to the table top. Shouyou chews on his lip as Kageyama blinks—one, two, three, four times—before he finally looks up at Shouyou. There’s something swimming in the depths of his irises, flickering like the waves of the ocean, but Shouyou doesn’t have time to process what it could mean before Kageyama stands, Shouyou’s arm following thanks to their linked fingers. Kageyama tugs on Shouyou’s hand until Shouyou stands, too, a nervous flutter erupting in his belly. What’s Kageyama _thinking_ right now? While he wouldn’t change Kageyama for anything, it’s sometimes nerve-wracking when he can’t get a read on his hardened exterior.

“Can I kiss you?” Kageyama blurts out, and Shouyou stares dumbly. He is literally _always_ welcome to kiss Shouyou; Shouyou can’t even remember the last time they’ve asked through words. But Shouyou nods, letting out a soft, “Of course.”

Kageyama brings his palms up to cup Shouyou’s jaw and leans over, sealing their lips together. Shouyou’s heart skips a beat—now _this_ isn’t like any other time they’ve kissed before. There’s a fervency to it, a rawness in the way that Kageyama presses against him that can only be described as hunger. Shouyou pushes back with his own fervor, a fire crackling to life under his skin in an instant.

When they break apart, Shouyou can’t help but tease, “So, Kageyama-kun, how’s that ‘sexual desire’ of yours feeling at the moment?”

“Shut _up_ ,” Kageyama grits out, a puff of hot breath that tingles against Shouyou’s moist lips. Before Shouyou can even chuckle, Kageyama’s lips are on him again, a hand slipping to the back of his neck and pulling him closer. Shouyou snakes his arms around to Kageyama’s back, fingers gripping into the fabric of his shirt. Oh, God, they’ve been kissing for like ten seconds, and his head feels like a merry-go-round on 5x speed—spinning spinning spinning absolutely out of control. Kageyama licks at the seam of his lips, and Shouyou parts them, the tang of salt from their dinner hitting his taste buds. Kageyama’s hand tugs at his hair as he sucks on his tongue, and Shouyou can’t help the whine that bubbles up in the back of his throat.

After a few more moments, Kageyama leans down further to press kisses against his cheek, his jaw. His breath ghosts along that spot right behind Shouyou’s ear, and Shouyou shivers as Kageyama kisses him there.

Somewhere in the back of Shouyou’s fuzzy, fuzzy mind, a bell rings, sparking a different kind of fire in his veins. Okay, so Kageyama had the upperhand in initiating the kiss, cool, but Shouyou won’t be out done. He moves his hands lower, pressing lightly into the small of Kageyama’s back, and Kageyama gets the message, thrusting his thigh between Shouyou’s legs. Shouyou lets out a hot breath as Kageyama nips at the juncture between his neck and shoulder, and he rolls his hips confidently—Kageyama lets out a little groan in response. They’ve grinded before; that’s part of normal kissing. Shouyou will definitely be sure to get clear consent before they go any further, but right now, he just wants to feel Kageyama against him.

Kageyama’s lips travel back up the length of his neck and find his lips again; Shouyou enters his mouth immediately, licking a stripe down Kageyama’s tongue. Kageyama’s breath stutters before he curls his fingers into Shouyou’s locks again. Shouyou slides one of his hands to the front, fingers teasing at the seam of Kageyama’s shirt. He’s about to break the kiss to ask to lift it off when one of Kageyama’s hands comes out of nowhere and seizes his wrist, pushing his hand up and against his skin. Shouyou takes full advantage of the new terrain, his other hand snaking under the fabric and moving steadily up the length of Kageyama’s abs to his ribs. This is basically as far as they’ve gotten in the past—hands on skin, but clothes still on—and Shouyou feels a spike of nerves run through him as he hooks his thumbs under Kageyama’s shirt, dragging it up. Kageyama seems plenty eager, though, pulling the towel down from the slope of his shoulders as Shouyou pushes the fabric up past his chest and over his head. 

Shouyou holds the shirt limply in one hand, his other pressing reverently into the skin of Kageyama’s torso. He sees this everyday as they change for practice in the club room, but it’s a whole different experience being this _close_ , being able to touch freely. Shouyou feels drunk on power as he slides his hand from just below his pec and over his chest. His thumb glances over Kageyama’s nipple, and Kageyama sucks in a breath, a shiver running down his spine. Shouyou looks up at him, eyes blinking open.

“Is this okay?” he asks, hand slowly sinking back down. Kageyama nods, and Shouyou runs his thumb lightly over his nipple again, eliciting the same reaction as earlier. He throws the shirt onto the top of the _kotatsu_ and raises both palms to his chest—starting at the lower half of his abs and following the muscles up until he reaches the bottom of his ribcage. His fingers run along the angle of his ribs, then slide down the sides of his waist.

“God, you’re _so_ hot,” Shouyou says, wetting his lips unwittingly. 

“Okay, your turn,” Kageyama says, grabbing Shouyou’s wrists and hauling his arms above his head. Shouyou complies, eyes still boring into Kageyama’s happy trail, but soon his vision is drowned out by a sea of fabric—his sweatshirt and shirt getting caught on his chin. He worms his way out, head popping free as Kageyama slides everything down his arms. Kageyama stares at the bundle of clothes for a bit, as though unsure of what to do with them, so Shouyou takes them and throws them atop Kageyama’s shirt on the _kotatsu_.

Kageyama glances over at the table and then back at his now empty hands, brow furrowing. After a few moments of this, Shouyou chuckles, raising an eyebrow. “You gonna do something with those?”

Kageyama glares at him, fingers twitching. “Y-yeah.”

Shouyou steps a few inches closer, intentionally bumping his chest into the tips of Kageyama’s fingers. Kageyama flips his wrists around instantly, but he still falters, not yet touching. Shouyou sighs, gently tugging one forward until his fingertips skim his pec.

“I can hear you overthinking again.” Shouyou’s hand presses more forcefully into Kageyama’s, pushing his palm flush against his skin. “Just do what feels right.”

Kageyama releases a long breath, eyes shutting. He brings his other hand forward until it’s mirroring the one already on Shouyou’s chest. His eyes open, and he starts moving upwards, fingers sweeping over his shoulders and down his arms. They find his waist and rest there for a moment; the way that they envelop _so_ much of his skin causes Shouyou’s gut to twist in arousal. God, he really does have a hand kink, huh.

He doesn’t have any time to reflect on that, though, as Kageyama’s palms slide inward towards his stomach. Huffing a breath through his nose, Shouyou’s muscles twitch as Kageyama moves his hands up along his abs, his touch leaving a trail of heat in its wake. They trace over his ribs—enveloping Shouyou’s entire front—and Shouyou breathes out, biting his lip. Kageyama’s fingers twitch away, flinching back a centimeter, and Shouyou’s hands reflexively come up and slam them back down onto his skin. 

“Keep going,” Shouyou says, looking up at Kageyama. “Please.”

He watches as Kageyama’s pupils dilate right before his eyes, blowing a fraction wider than before. His hands come to rest on Shouyou’s ribs again before sliding down his sides, following the same pattern Shouyou drew on him earlier; Shouyou’s jaw clenches as he bites back a laugh. They circle back around to his abs, thumbs rubbing lightly over the hair towards the bottom. As they come up again, Shouyou can’t help the giggle that erupts from his lungs.

“That tickles!” Kageyama stops his ministrations, glaring down at his stomach.

“I forgot how _stupid_ ticklish you are,” he says, fingers tapping lightly against his skin. Shouyou bursts into more choked laughter, squirming around in place. 

“Stoooop!” he says smiling, grabbing Kageyama’s wrists. Kageyama’s hands still, a complacent smirk on his lips. Shouyou forces his palms to press flat against his sides again. Taking another second to catch his breath, Shouyou says, “Okay, you can keep going.” Kageyama rolls his eyes, fingers curling into Shouyou’s hips.

He cycles around in the same pattern as before: up Shouyou’s abs, across his ribs, down his sides. The touch is pleasant, but lacks the energy from their earlier kiss—the intensity and desire. Like Kageyama’s still holding back. Shouyou shuts his eyes, breathing in. He has to be patient. He can be patient, for Kageyama.

His eyes suddenly snap open—a breath punched out of his chest—as Kageyama’s hands slide up and brush over his nipples. _Oh_. Shouyou’s definitely toyed with them while getting off, but that was nothing like the sensation just now—like a jolt of electricity splitting through his spine. Before Kageyama can even think about questioning his reaction, Shouyou nods his head, eager for more.

“That. Again,” he says eloquently. Kageyama’s shoulders drop, and he complies, running his thumbs back down—a bit harder this time. The same bolt of lightning seizes Shouyou, and he gasps, chest reflexively leaning forward.

“Rub the pad of your thumb around them,” Shouyou says, remembering what he sometimes does to himself. Kageyama follows his instructions—going clockwise with his right and counter-clockwise with his left—and Shouyou keens, a breathy whine leaving the back of his throat. He can’t really bring himself to be embarrassed; this feels _amazing_. Kageyama continues circling, unhurried and careful, but at varying pressures. Shouyou’s head starts to spin as his blood rushes downwards, fueling the fire in his gut.

For once in his life, he hadn’t actually been paying much attention to his dick—too focused on the feeling of Kageyama’s hands. But suddenly he’s _very_ reminded of it as it presses persistently into his briefs. Like _damn_ , that got hard fast, even for him.

Shouyou cracks open his eyes—when did they even close?—and peers up at Kageyama. Kageyama looks mesmerised, his lips slightly parted as his gaze flicks from Shouyou’s chest to his face.

“Bedroom?” Shouyou suggests, letting out another noise as Kageyama continues playing with his chest. Turns out he really wasn’t exaggerating earlier when he said that Kageyama’s not gonna have the time to hurt him before he comes—he’s not even touching his _dick_ , and Shouyou’s worried about the imminent conclusion.

“Yeah,” Kageyama says, nearly a whisper as the word mingles with his exhale. Shouyou nearly whines again—a pouty whine, this time—as Kageyama’s hands fall from his chest, but he restrains himself thanks to the knowledge that if he’s patient for just a bit longer, there’s even better to come.

Literally.

Heh.

Shouyou grabs Kageyama by the wrist and hauls them up the stairs two steps at a time. The moment they breach the entrance to his bedroom, Shouyou slams Kageyama into the nearest wall. Kageyama grunts but gets the message, meeting Shouyou half way as he rises on his tiptoes for a kiss. Shouyou wraps his arms around Kageyama’s neck as Kageyama tangles his hand into his hair, their lips parting in tandem. Kageyama brings his thigh tentatively forward to press in between Shouyou’s legs, and Shouyou’s brow furrows. He quickly slides an arm down off of Kageyama’s neck, grips his hamstring, and _pulls_ until it’s pressed flush to his groin, letting out a little groan. Shouyou hips jump forward erratically as Kageyama dips his tongue into his mouth, chasing the heady pleasure that’s been building in him since their kiss in the living room.

Shouyou’s hand moves on its own to Kageyama’s chest, his fingers spreading over his skin. He squeezes lightly, aware of the firm muscle beneath, and Kageyama breathes out sharply, hand tangling further into Shouyou’s locks. Shouyou squeezes again, a sound of appreciation rising from the back of his throat. So firm!

When his thumb grazes across Kageyama’s nipple, a lightbulb goes off in his mind then explodes, sending all its stray rays of electricity into Shouyou’s veins. He breaks their kiss; a trail of saliva follows.

“I’m gonna try something new. Tell me if you want me to stop.” Kageyama’s eyes flutter open, and he looks at him skeptically but nods. Shouyou gives him a peck on the lips before trailing lower along his jaw. Even though Kageyama just showered, his skin tastes of sweat, and Shouyou impulsively licks a line up the corded muscle on his neck. Kageyama’s hands tighten in his hair. Shouyou kisses down a bit lower and latches his lips around a ring of skin, sucking lightly. Kageyama’s leg abruptly pushes up into his groin, and a moan comes out of the back of Shouyou’s throat.

Shouyou releases his skin before he can leave a mark, lips moving to his collarbone. He was temporarily distracted by Kageyama’s alluring neck and throat, but he’s a man on a _mission_ after all—his eyes on a prize. He leaves open-mouthed kisses along the length of his clavicle, down the side of his chest. Eyes honing in on The Prize, his gaze flicks up to Kageyama’s. A flash of recognition shines in Kageyama’s eyes just before Shouyou descends, pressing a warm, wet kiss to Kageyama’s nipple. Kageyama breath stutters, his abs clenching. Shouyou lets instinct take over—his jaw dropping as he licks a long stripe over the bud. This time, Kageyama stifles a groan, head slamming back into the wall with a _thunk_. (That sounded like it hurt, but, hey, maybe Kageyama’s into that. They can figure that out later, though.)

Shouyou licks him again, then slides his hand to the bare half of Kageayma’s chest. He plucks the left nipple as he swirls his tongue around the right, and Kageyama moans, his hand tugging Shouyou back. Shouyou’s eyes flick up to Kageyama’s face in concern. “What’s wrong?”

Kageyama’s breathing hard, and he takes a few harsh breaths before huffing out, “It’s good—really good—it’s just—”

“A lot,” Shouyou finishes, his hand moving from his chest to cup his shoulder. Kageyama nods, bangs covering his eyes. Shouyou pushes them back gently as Kageyama winds down, his breath evening out after a few steady inhales.

“Okay,” Kageyama says. “I’m good to keep going.” Shouyou hums, rubbing a circle along the end of his collarbone. 

“How about you do something to me? Give your body a little break.”

Kageyama’s fingers curl into the back of his head. “That might be worse.”

Shouyou karate chops him lightly between the eyes. “No overthinking! Just _feel_. You think I had any idea what I was just doing? No, I let my body move on its own, did what felt _right_. And then when it was too much for you, you stopped me. It’ll be the same on your end from me. Trust yourself, Kageyama. Trust _me_.” Kageyama untucks his chin from his chest, looking slightly up to meet Shouyou’s eyes. Shouyou stares back, trying to drill the message into Kageyama’s thick skull with his piercing gaze.

Kageyama looks to the side as he swallows, brow furrowed in thought. After a few moments, he sighs, his shoulders falling on the exhale. “Okay, let’s move to the bed.” Shouyou’s brows perk up, a jolt of excitement shooting up his spine. If he were a dog, his tail would probably be wagging a hundred miles an hour right now. Bed. Bed! A lot more can happen on a bed.

Before his brain completely reverts to a primal state, Kageyama’s hands drop to his shoulders and spin him around gracelessly. As they walk towards the bed, Kageyama chuckles from behind him, and Shouyou glances over his shoulder. “What?”

Kageyama nods his head towards his dresser. “Why do you just have a bottle of lube and a washcloth and a water bottle sitting in plain sight next to your bed?” He raises an amused eyebrow.

Shouyou elbows him in the stomach as heat rises to his cheeks. “I already told you about my _predicament_ the latter half of the week, all thanks to _you_. And no one else is home—why put it away when I’m just gonna pull it out again? Now shut up and get on the bed.” He turns around and grabs Kageyama by the waist, shoving him sideways towards the bed. Kageyama laughs as he sits down on the mattress, legs naturally spreading apart. Shouyou plants his hands on the outside of Kageyama’s knees and pushes them inward until they knock together. Then he climbs into Kageyama’s lap, plopping down gracelessly onto his thighs.

“So, what do you feel comfortable doing tonight?” Shouyou asks, slipping a hand under his jaw and caressing his cheek with a thumb. Kageyama’s face flushes as Shouyou looks into his eyes, likely abashed under his open gaze.

“Just ... hand stuff, if that’s okay.” Kageyama puts a palm on his waist, and Shouyou instinctively leans into the touch.

Shouyou takes his free hand and lightly bonks the top of Kageyama’s head. “That’s more than okay. And if that’s too much, we can always back up to grinding—or even nothing at all! No rush, no pressure, okay?”

Kageyama nods, cheeks wonderfully red, and licks his lips. Shouyou scooches a bit closer before leaning forward, eyes slipping shut, and Kageyama meets him halfway. Shouyou tries to part his lips, but Kageyama presses intently against him—not rough, but insistent. The kiss feels more sweet than heady, and a kaleidoscope of butterflies fills his stomach, the beat of their wings dampening the flames. Shouyou breathes out a long breath through his nose, relishing the gentle moment. 

The pace picks back up quickly, though, Kageyama finally parting his lips to let Shouyou enter. Shouyou buries his hands into Kageyama’s hair, drawing him closer, and he bucks his hips a touch forward, testing the waters. Kageyama ruts back against him, and Shouyou feels a bubble of excitement pop in his chest and buzz through his veins. When they separate for air, Kageyama dives back in first, pressing a lingering kiss against him before biting down gently on his lower lip. When he pulls back slightly, the feeling plummets straight down to Shouyou’s groin.

Oh yeah—that.

Now that they’ve stopped talking, Shouyou’s become painfully aware of his dick again. Sometimes he thinks he should just never shut the fuck up—then he wouldn’t have to deal with his incessant hormones. But when Kageyama brings a hand to tentatively cup him through his sweats, Shouyou once again becomes grateful for the existence of his dick. Because _Jesus Christ, that feels good_.

Shouyou presses forward, chasing the friction, and Kageyama smirks as he presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You good?”

Shouyou nods fervently, thrusting with intention. “More.” Kageyama grinds his palm down harder, and Shouyou _moans_ , the sound so loud that it rumbles around in his chest. Somewhere in the back of Shouyou’s mind, he’s also incredibly proud of Kageyama for making such a bold move and feels as though he should vocalize this. But the thought is completely drowned out by the pure ecstasy of the touch; his brain cells have lost all real cognitive ability and are now just one collective mass shouting “HE’S TOUCHING YOUR DICK” through a bullhorn. 

Kageyama starts moving his palm in a circle, and Shouyou feels absolutely _dizzy_ with the pleasure that rushes up his spine. He drops his forehead onto Kageyama’s shoulder, scraping up the dregs of his intelligence and reminding himself how to breathe. After a few moments pass and he’s collected himself, Shouyou suddenly remembers the existence of things outside the sphere of his own dick—such as Kageyama’s. He drags a hand down Kageyama’s chest, pausing to circle his thumb once around his nipple before sliding lower. His hand skims Kageyama’s happy trail, and he peels his forehead off of Kageyama’s shoulder to look at him. He flicks his gaze between his crotch and his eyes—a question. Kageyama swallows before he nods, eyes flicking to the floor.

Shouyou doesn’t have to be told twice; he drops his palm onto Kageyama’s groin and squeezes, both his balls and his dick fitting snugly in his hand. Kageyama sucks in a breath through his teeth, his abs clenching. Shouyou massages him in circles, and Kageyama’s breath goes haywire, his exhales leaving his chest in a heavy rush. He starts grinding his palm into Shouyou again, and for a long few moments, both of them get lost in the sensation, the only noises filling the air their stuttering breaths and airy whimpers.

In a stroke of genius, Shouyou thinks to move his hand further along Kageyama’s shaft, and Kageyama straight up _moans_ as Shouyou’s palm presses against his head. The last of his sanity and control are lost as the sound filters into his ears, and Shouyou abruptly springs off of his lap to shuffle over to his dresser. His hands yank his pants and underwear down straight to the ground before he returns to stand in front of Kageyama, flinging the bottle of lube onto the bed. It’s only after he notices Kageyama staring dumbly down at his crotch, mouth agape, that Shouyou realizes that pulling down his pants means that he is now, in fact, buck naked. He lets out a noise of distress, hands instantly coming down to cover his junk.

“Is this okay?” he squeaks out, eyes squeezed shut in embarrassment. He’s got nothing against his body or his dick—they’re both quite fantastic, actually—but _oh my god,_ he really just whipped it out without asking Kageyama beforehand. Instead of brain, there is lust. He feels _really bad_ —

A hand wraps around one of his wrists and tugs him forward. Shouyou cracks open an eye to see Kageyama smiling, his eyes crinkling softly at the corners.

“More than okay,” Kageyama says, and Shouyou grins when he recognizes his words from earlier. Dropping his wrist, Kageyama moves his hands to the hem of his sweatpants, fingers caught hesitantly along the seam. Shouyou waits with bated breath as Kageyama slowly hooks his thumbs under the waistband. He leans back as his arms draw forward, sliding the fabric down past the v-line of his abs and then lower and lower and lower—and Shouyou audibly gasps as his dick finally springs free. It’s not particularly big nor small, maybe a bit longer than Shouyou’s, but plenty proportional to Kageyama’s body. Shouyou’s next breath is a sigh of relief—he was honestly a bit scared that Kageyama was gonna have a monster cock, like the ones that he sees in almost all of the porn he watches. And while Shouyou has no bias against monster cocks—we’re all just born with what we’re born with—it’s comforting to know that he’ll never get his ass split in half. (If they ever get to that point. Shouyou is getting very, very ahead of himself.)

“Stop staring!” Kageyama says, and Shouyou’s gaze snaps up to see his cheeks coloring. 

“You stared, too, hypocrite!” Shouyou snaps back, fists curling into balls at his sides. They both hold each other’s gazes before their eyes snap back to their respective dicks in tandem. They look up at each other again at the same time, too, and, slapping a hand over his face, Shouyou starts giggling. Oh my God. They’re such disasters. They’re so embarrassing. Two brains, one cell. 

Something warm blossoms in Shouyou’s chest as Kageyama starts to snort, too—quiet, at first, but soon erupting from the bottom of his diaphragm, rich laughter filling the room. They laugh until Shouyou doubles over, his abs clenching from how quickly his breath is leaving his body. Once he can stand up straight again—still giggling like a maniac, though—he walks over to Kageyama, fully plopping himself down in his lap again. His arms come to snake around Kageyama’s back, and Kageyama follows his movements; soon, their chests are bumping erratically together as they just keep _laughing_. Kageyama turns his head towards Shouyou’s neck, and Shouyou squeals as his hot breath tickles against his skin, another string of giggles falling from his lips.

After they finally compose themselves—Shouyou sucking in and holding a breath until the urge to laugh subsides—all the tension in the air from earlier is gone, diffused like clipping the correct wire of a bomb. Kageyama looks up at him with a confident glint in his eye—oh, _that’s_ really hot, okay—as his hand glides from Shouyou’s shoulder blade to his deltoid. Sliding down his arm, Kageyama soon reaches his fingers and lifts them up gently. Shouyou’s head tilts to the side, bemused, and Kageyama looks down, cheeks flooding with heat. Eyes fluttering shut, he plants a light kiss on Shouyou’s knuckles, and Shouyou’s heart nearly bursts out of his chest with affection.

“I’m, uh,” Kageyama says, lips brushing Shouyou’s skin. Shouyou’s brows raise in encouragement, head nodding slightly. Kageyama breathes out through his nose, the warm air hitting the back of Shouyou’s hand. “I’m really glad you’re my first.”

An embarrassingly fond noise escapes the back of Shouyou’s throat, and he surges forward, capturing Kageyama’s lips in a kiss. He pulls back before Kageyama can really reciprocate, a grin breaking out on his face. “Same here.” Shouyou kisses him again, lingering this time. He can’t stop fucking _smiling_ though, and then Kageyama smiles, and oh God, their teeth are clacking together. Shouyou can’t bring himself to _stop_ though, his body completely seized with elation. He likes Kageyama _soooooooooooo_ much. So much!

Before he can consider that maybe the L word he’s feeling is actually maybe a step higher, Kageyama drags a hand down his chest, pinching lightly at his nipple, and Shouyou groans unexpectedly. Like, he was incredibly aware that _this_ is what they’re in the middle of, but, being caught in the prior torrent of emotions, he’d also actually kinda forgotten. Luckily, having the attention span of a goldfish means that he very easily slips back into the zone, the buoyant feeling in his veins dissolving to feed the embers simmering in his gut. Kageyama rolls both of his nipples between his fingers, and the fire instantly reignites, burning even hotter than before.

Shouyou pats haphazardly at the right side of the mattress until his hand meets cold plastic; he curls his fingers around the bottle. Breaking their kiss, Shouyou holds the lube between their faces at eye level, gaze flicking from the label to Kageyama. “Something tells me we’re going to need this soon.”

Kageyama nods, gaze fuzzy. “Uh. Smart.”

Shouyou chuckles, bapping the back of the bottle against Kageyama’s forehead. His nose scrunches as Shouyou says, “How do you wanna do this?”

“Um,” Kageyama starts, glancing down. “Want to ... touch each other?” His face burns bright red as the words leave his mouth, and Shouyou nods fervently. 

“Sounds good to me.”

Shouyou uncaps the bottle and drops a dollop into his palm. When Kageyama doesn’t offer his, Shouyou stares at him and then back at his own hand. Something lights up in Kageyama’s eyes, and he raises his hand, mouth pulling into a straight line. Squirting a hefty drop into his palm, Shouyou snaps the bottle shut and throws it somewhere on the mattress.

As he rubs his hands together, warming up the lube, he can’t help but grin again, whether from nerves or excitement (definitely both). In t-minus approximately ten seconds, Kageyama’s _hand_ is going to be on his _dick_. Oh, how many times has his lust-addled teenage brain played out this exact scenario over the past few months? How many nights has he jacked off before slipping into a deep sleep to this very concept? Despite his active and relatively realistic imagination, the actual moment feels nothing like what he’s ever conjured. There’s definitely some sexual tension, certainly high anticipation, but Shouyou had just never considered the other aspects—the things that are typical, integral aspects of their relationship. The way that Kageyama is smiling at him back, just a slight upturn of his lips, but so real and genuine that Shouyou’s stretches wider. How, more than anything, Shouyou’s just _giddy_ , completely comfortable just being in the moment. He knows that he told Kageyama to trust him earlier, but Shouyou doesn’t even have to _try_ to trust Kageyama: that’s just how he feels, always.

Hands sufficiently warm, Shouyou slowly lowers them, his gaze locked on Kageyama’s the whole way down. Kageyama’s hands follow, stopping once they’re a few centimeters from Shouyou’s dick. Shouyou raises an eyebrow, and Kageyama nods slowly. Letting out a breath, Shouyou moves his arm forward and curls his fingers around the base of Kageyama’s dick. Kageyama, meanwhile, starts his grip just under Shouyou’s head, and Shouyou’s hips reflexively pull back, itching for the friction just a bit higher. Shouyou starts moving his hand up Kageyama’s length, his first tug steady but not rough. Kageyama follows, and Shouyou groans as he passes over his head, his skin crackling like fireworks. Shouyou’s hand climbs higher, and he twists his wrist when he gets to the top—punching a grunt out of Kageyama’s chest. Kageyama’s thumb circles around his slit, and Shouyou keens, hissing through his teeth.

He’s never felt so powerful yet so powerless in his life. 

Shouyou continues stroking Kageyama the way he’d get himself off, figuring that there’s no reason to change up his usual pattern. But, okay, maybe this was a bad idea, because Shouyou _literally feels non-functional right now_ —with the way that Kageyama’s giant setter hand is running up and down his dick in a simple yet effective manner, it takes every last ounce of effort to keep his own hand moving. One half of his mind is latched onto chasing his own pleasure, the other is desperate to give Kageyama his fair share, and it feels like his noggin is going to split in two from the opposing desires.

In the end, Shouyou grits his teeth and keeps going, the tiny, steadily more desperate noises that he’s pulling out of Kageyama worth the wildfire meltdown currently occurring in his brain cavity. Kageyama’s hand keeps stuttering, as well—every time Shouyou grips him in a certain way or twists his wrist just like that—so Shouyou knows that he’s not completely unaffected either. When Shouyou switches his grip to rub his thumb along the bottom of Kageyam’s head, increasing the pressure there, Kageyama picks up his own pace, focusing his strokes on the top half of Shouyou’s dick.

Shouyou pumps Kageyama rapidly a few more times before attacking him from a different angle; his free hand moves to Kageyama’s chest and rubs around a nipple. Kageyama’s hand stills for a long moment as he swears. After recovering, he mirrors Shouyou, pinching at one of Shouyou’s buds between his thumb and forefinger. 

“Shit!” Shouyou yells, the sensation shooting straight to his dick. Kageyama gives him a bit of a worried look, but Shouyou cuts in, “Keep going.”

As Kageyama adjusts his grip, squelching lewdly with each upstroke, Shouyou can feel his control slipping. It’s taking everything in him right now to not squeeze Kageyama’s dick like a massage ball.

Then, with a stroke of clarity (literally, he pulls up on Kageyama too quickly and loses his grip), Shouyou realizes something.

“Hands!” he blurts out. Kageyama glances at him, head tilting to the side as he continues working Shouyou’s dick, and Shouyou gesticulates wildly for a second with his free hand. “Your hands. Are big.” Kageyama’s frowning at this point, a little furrow between his brow. Shouyou groans (exasperated at first, but quickly turning lewd when Kageyama rubs the underside of his head _just_ like that) and grabs Kageyama’s wrist. Kageyama instantly stills, and Shouyou gently peels his hand off of his dick. He scoots forward on his knees until his flushed head taps Kageyama’s. Settling down into his lap, Shouyou guides Kageyama’s hand back to their dicks. Kageyama just stares down for a moment, hand hovering awkwardly in the air.

“Both,” Shouyou says, hooking his arms around Kageyama’s neck. “Do both. At the same time.” Kageyama’s eyes widen in understanding. His hand flexes—Shouyou feels his dick throb as the tendons on the back pop out—before he tentatively wraps his fingers around both of them. Shouyou hisses when his fist tightens, the combination of his grip and the pressure of their cocks together sending a fresh shock of heat down his spine.

“Gooo,” Shouyou whines, burying his face in Kageyama’s shoulder. Kageyama grunts, hand unmoving. 

“You are _so_ impatient.” Kageyama slides his loose fingers down their dicks, broad hand quickly reaching the base.

“Because it feels so goooood.” He bounces a few beats on his lap, chasing the barely-there friction. “You’re really good at this.” Shouyou rarely praises Kageyama verbally—it feels like he’s lost somehow, usually—but he means what he just said with complete earnesty. While he is, in fact, very turned on right now so almost anything on his dick could probably feel good, Kageyama really is doing amazing. His modus operandi is a bit more methodical and predictable than Shouyou’s, but it _works_ so who the hell cares?

Shouyou doesn’t know if it’s his little bounces or the praise, but something seems to resonate with Kageyama, for he finally wraps his hand around them securely. Shouyou peeks down between them and notices that, while Kageyama’s thumb and other fingers don’t _quite_ touch, they’re pretty damn close. He strokes up slowly but firmly, and Shouyou can feel every spot where they press together—the hot, wet slide of Kageyama’ dick against his own filling his brain with static. When Kageyama rubs over their heads, they both moan—the discordant duet a damn symphony to Shouyou’s ears.

It takes a bit of fumbling to get into a rhythm, but soon enough, Kageyama’s setting a solid pace, his grip strong enough to provide ample friction but not enough to hurt. Shouyou’s nearly lost the capacity to think at this point, the immense pleasure from Kageyama’s touch completely consuming him. His only remaining thought is how even his grandest fantasies did _nothing_ to prepare him for the real deal of Kageyama’s skin on his skin, his hand on his dick, his thumb on his chest. Shouyou is an incredibly greedy person—always striving for more, more, more because nothing ever feels like it’s enough—but for the first time in a while, he can decidedly say that what’s happening right now?

It’s enough.

It’s more than enough.

It’s everything.

With that final thought, Shouyou feels something twist and snap in his gut. He sucks in a rapid string of breaths, his exhales coming out in progressively higher and higher airy whines. With his arms tightening around Kageyama’s neck, Shouyou comes. And comes and comes and comes. Holy shit, it’s just not _stopping_ ; the waves of pleasure continue to swell and break under his skin with no mercy. His hand comes down unwittingly to grab at Kageyama’s wrist, slowing his pace.

“Oh God, Oh God, Oh God,” he blabbers, unable to keep it all inside of him. Everything feels like it’s burning—his blood, Kageyama’s skin, the air itself—and Shouyou drinks it greedily all in from head to toe.

The final wave crests and crashes, and Shouyou slumps over like a ragdoll, every ounce of energy leaving him at once. He takes a few moments to just breathe—in his nose, out his mouth—trying to make sense of the world once again. But as soon as he gains the slightest grip on reality, an alarm bell goes off in his head—a fresh burst of adrenaline shooting straight down into his veins.

“You!” Shouyou says, sitting ramrod straight in Kageyama’s lap. Kageyama startles, eyes widening.

“Me?” he replies, brows scrunching.

“You haven’t come yet!” Shouyou pulls Kageyama’s hand off of their dicks and wraps his own fist around Kageyama. His post-orgasm drowsiness is hitting _hard_ —brain filling with cotton—but his desperation to see Kageyama through to the end of their first time is even stronger. Before Kageyama can retaliate with something stupid like, “ _Don’t worry about me, take care of yourself, dumbass!_ ” Shouyou starts pumping him up and down. The first few strokes are just to get things started, but soon, he’s applying all his usual tricks—varying the pressure, twisting just there, occasionally circling his slit. Kageyama’s breath has drastically picked up speed, his nails dragging along Shouyou’s skin and curling into fists atop his thighs. The sting sends a jolt of pleasure through him, and Shouyou rubs just over his head with the next few jerks of his wrist.

“I’m gonna ... I—” Kageyama pants, a long groan ripping from his lungs. Shouyou switches back to his whole length but speeds up the pace, the friction building heat against his palm. Kageyama’s whole body tenses, and Shouyou grins as he comes, white lines making a mess between them. Eyes shutting, Kageyama tips his head back, and Shouyou marvels at the ivory column of his neck—littered with the smallest patches of red. Shouyou’s hand slows and loosens but keeps bobbing up and down; Kageyama’s breath comes out in short gasps, and Shouyou revels in their melody.

After a few more moments, Kageyama sucks in a long, unsteady breath. On the exhale, his shoulders sag, his weight sinking further into the mattress. Shouyou brings his clean hand to the back of his head; tilting it up, he kisses Kageyama before he can bat an eye. Kageyama shifts forward, pressing up from his palms on the bed to lean forward into Shouyou’s lips. A more viscous warmth fills Shouyou—coating his veins syrupy warm, heavy and comforting like a weighted blanket.

They soon break apart, Shouyou’s hand sliding to cup Kageyama’s jaw. He rubs a thumb delicately over his cheekbone, and the corners of Kageyama’s lips turn up, his eyes still shut.

“How ... was that?” Shouyou asks. He cringes at his lack of tact—he’s not eloquent on a _normal_ day, so he’s certainly not capable of stringing words all pretty together now, right after the best orgasm of his _life_. “How are you _feeling?_ ” he amends, a bit more satisfied with the phrasing. 

Kageyama hums. tilting his head into Shouyou’s palm. “I think I could nap for the next three hours.” Shouyou laughs, partially because Kageyama is _cute_ , partially because he feels the same. “And now I feel extremely sticky. We really didn’t try to stop that mess from happening at all, huh.” 

Shouyou looks down in between them, grimacing. But while the cooling release feels pretty disgusting, he can’t help but feel a rush of headiness at the sight. That’s his come! And Kageyama’s! Together! They just did that! Shouyou feels his metaphorical tail start wagging again.

“I’ll go grab the _extremely convenient washcloth_ _and water bottle_ from the side table. So, you know, neither of us have to leave the room to clean up. Because I am a _genius._ ” He gives Kageyama a quick peck on the cheek before scooting off of the bed. When his feet hit the ground, his legs nearly give out, wobbling like Jello.

Kageyama snorts. “You’re just horny.” 

Shouyou walks a couple steps to the head of his bed, plucking the items off of the counter. “Same difference.” He turns around just in time to see Kageyama roll his eyes, the quirk of his lips belying his fondness. His heart thumps at the sight, and he heads back towards Kageyama, smiling.

Uncapping the water, Shouyou dumps out little splashes bit by bit onto the cloth until it’s sufficiently damp. He grins triumphantly at his dexterity, over the fact that he didn’t spill half the bottle’s contents onto the floor (as is per usual). He sets the water down on the ground and then wipes his hands off on the washcloth, gaze flicking between their two bodies. His eyes flit up to Kageyama’s face, and Shouyou stops moving, chest filling with concern. He looks troubled, with a pinched brow and a hefty frown.

“Kage—”

“How are _you_ feeling?” Kageyama asks. He flinches when he realizes that he cut Shouyou off. “Sorry.”

Shouyou shakes his head, taking a step forward. Putting the washcloth down on the bed, Shouyou raises an arm to push Kageyama’s bangs out of his face. “No apology needed. And amazing. I feel _amazing_.” Shouyou brings his hands to cup Kageyama’s jaw, tilting his head up. Kageyama meets his eyes, a torrent of emotion stirring in his irises. Shouyou continues, stroking his cheekbones. “You did amazing. Life is amazing!” A grin splits across Shouyou’s face as he throws his hands gleefully in the air, and the corners of Kageyama’s quirk up, as well. “Seriously, though”—Shouyou rests his hands against Kageyama’s face again—“best orgasm of my life, hands down. Maybe it’s just the setter in you—being so good with your hands.”

Kageyama chuckles at that, rolling his eyes. “It’s always about volleyball, isn’t it?”

Shouyou nods. “It’s always about volleyball.”

They stare at each other for a moment before breaking into giggles, Shouyou’s hands squeezing Kageyama’s cheeks. Once they calm down, Shouyou smiles fondly before pressing his lips to Kageyama’s—channeling every damn ounce of joy in his body into the kiss. Kageyama pushes back, and Shouyou grins at the equal level of enthusiasm. 

Pulling away, Shouyou asks, “Can I wipe you down now?” His voice is incredibly soft even to his own ears. Argh, gross.

“Yeah,” Kageyama replies, his cheeks reddening.

“This is gonna be a bit cold, sorry,” Shouyou says before picking up the washcloth from the bed and wiping at the top of Kageyama’s thigh. Kageyama shivers as Shouyou continues, swiping up from his legs to his torso, hand steady but gentle. Kageyama’s eyes slip shut, and Shouyou feels his heart squeeze with gratitude at how easy things are between them. Like, it’s not always easy, but how they both know that ultimately, they can seek comfort in one another ... how in their relationship, what runs the deepest is their mutual trust. 

Shouyou feels himself flush at the thought. He makes fun of Kageyama for being so sappy sometimes, but maybe he needs to vibe check himself. Sappinata. He smiles as he finishes cleaning Kageyama up with a final, light wipe of his groin.

Shouyou bends over to grab the water bottle, but Kageyama’s hand knocks his out of the way. Looking up, Shouyou notes that Kageyama’s eyes are still half closed, but there’s a determined set to his brow, his lips pulled into a mild frown.

“My turn,” he says, then lets out a gaping yawn. Shouyou chuckles, but when Kageyama holds out his palm, he relinquishes the washcloth. Kageyama pours a big splash of water onto the fabric before turning back to Shouyou. He wipes his own hands off before settling his free hand on Shouyouo’s waist; Shouyou shivers at the chilly touch. Kageyama wipes him down as methodically as he got him off, long strokes up and down his torso before deftly wiping around his legs and groin. When he rubs the cloth over his dick, Shouyou _really_ shivers, shifting his weight from foot to foot rapidly on the floor. Kageyama’s grip tightens on his waist, and Shouyou starts giggling—the combination of the cold and the touch sending tingly shocks up his body.

“How did you even survive sex?” Kageyama mumbles quietly, almost to himself. “You’re the most ticklish person on the planet.”

Shouyou keeps wriggling under his grasp, air leaving him in little puffs. “I’m pretty sure— _hah_ —that there’s some science or something where— _eek!_ —your brain turns off some of its usual functions while _copulating_ —oof!” Kageyama punches him lightly in the stomach, grimacing.

“Don’t say that word like that, ugh. Also since when do you know or care about science?”

Shouyou kicks him in the shin; the sting in his big toe is worth it for the way that Kageyama jumps. “Since science helped me better understand my body and how to take care of it. My fleshy vessel is a _temple_ , Kageyama-kun, and my physical, mental, and sexual health all contribute to the beauty that is its _whole_ —” Kageyama slaps a palm over his mouth while he continues wiping at the inside of Shouyou’s legs.

“I wonder some days why the Gods ever gave you the ability to speak,” he says, sitting back a little to eye Shouyou’s form. Shouyou’s nose scrunches, and he licks Kageyama’s hand in retaliation. Kageyama gives him a look before dropping his hand, wiping Shouyou’s saliva off with the washcloth. 

“Where should I put this?” Kageyama asks once he’s done. Shouyou snatches it from his hand before flinging it in the direction of his laundry bin. Miraculously, the cloth hits the side of the basket and falls in; Shouyou flips his hair complacently before turning back to Kageyama. That basketball career is looking more and more promising.

“What do you wanna do now?” he asks.

As if on cue, Kageyama lets out another big yawn, and this time, Shouyou follows. “Nap.” 

Shouyou giggles at the tail end of his yawn, lips curling into a smile. “It’s, like, five o’clock.” 

Kageyama pouts, eyebrows furrowing. “Just a little one. I’m tired.”

Shouyou walks to the head of his bed again, flinging up a corner of his comforter. He climbs onto the mattress and tucks himself under the covers, wiggling with joy as the warmth consumes him. “Nap time then.”

Kageyama looks over at him, then down at the floor. “No briefs or anything?”

Shouyou sighs, frowning. “I normally sleep naked, so I forgot. But you can get both of ours if you want.” 

Kageyama looks like he very much does not want to get his ass off of the bed to do so, but he does anyway, plucking the discarded garments from their respective places on the floor. Shouyou’s eyes begin to slip shut on their own accord, but immediately fly open again when he’s nailed in the face with a swath of polyester. 

“Grooooss,” he moans, slipping it off his face and under the covers. He yanks them on as Kageyama walks over. Lifting the edge of his covers, Kageyama crawls in with him. 

“Contract,” Shouyou huffs, still pouting.

“What?”

“You were a big meany again—throwing my _briefs_ onto my _face_. You broke the contract.” Shouyou wraps his arms around Kageyama’s middle, drawing him closer. “Time to pay up, or I’m kicking you out.”

Kageyama’s face lights up in recognition, and then he rolls his eyes big time. Scooting closer to Shouyou, he brings a palm to Shouyou’s cheek and leans forward. Shouyou shuts his eyes just before warm lips press against his, and a renewed rush of happy tingles runs up and down his spine.

Kageyama draws back, and Shouyou’s eyes flutter open. On instinct, Shouyou cranes his neck up to press a kiss to Kageyama’s nose. Kageyama’s eyes cross as he pulls away, and Shouyou giggles at the sight.

Kageyama clicks his tongue, cheeks filling with red. “Happy, dumbass?” When Shouyou nods, he continues, “Good. Now turn around.” Shouyou doesn’t have it in him to argue and complies, flipping onto his other side. Kageyama’s arm snakes down to his front, and he pulls Shouyou against his chest; Shouyou’s eyes widen in surprise. Sure, they’ve cuddled before, but Shouyou’s always been the one who’s initiated. Shouyou thinks back to their phone call, where he postulated his “post-sex Softy-yama” theory. Maybe it’s not just his words, but his actions, too. Kageyama just becomes a big, soft, clingy teddy bear after he comes.

That thought should not be as adorable as it is. 

Shouyou places his arm atop Kageyama’s, shifting his body into a more comfortable position. He hooks a foot around Kageyama’s calf, tugging it forward. After a few moments, Kageyama gets the message, slotting his leg between Shouyou’s thighs. Closing his eyes, Shouyou breathes out a happy sigh, his skin pleasantly warm against Kageyama’s.

Cocooned in Kageyama’s embrace plus the comforter, Shouyou feels himself start to drift almost immediately—that specific sleepy fogginess wrapping around his brain, a comfortable weight seeping into his bones. Just before he slips completely under, though, he feels Kageyama’s breath ghost against his neck.

“Thank you,” he whispers, and Shouyou feels the words pull him further awake, eyes blinking open lazily. He wishes that he could turn around and see Kageyama’s face, but he’s too tired to even try—plus, Kageyama probably doesn’t want him to look.

Shouyou’s not exactly sure what Kageyama’s thanking him for, but the sentiment resonates within him, his heart squeezing.

Things can get tricky when your boyfriend is also your best friend, your greatest rival, your strongest teammate, and your first love.

The final thought strikes Shouyou unexpectedly, but it fits so seamlessly with all the others. He sighs, his heart soaring in his chest.

Being in love _must_ feel like flying. Because Shouyou can say without-a-doubt, absolutely, certainly, and decidedly that he’s in love with Kageyama. 

His question from earlier in the day assuredly answered, he brings Kageyama’s hand from his chest to his lips. Planting a light kiss on his palm, Shouyou then whispers, “No, thank _you_.” _For trusting me. For always trying your best for me. For being you,_ Shouyou leaves unsaid, hoping that the pounding in his chest conveys the feelings for him.

Kageyama breathes out long and slow. He moves his hand back down to Shouyou’s tummy and pulls him closer. Eyelids drooping, Shouyou’s eyes flutter shut again.

Shouyou’s train of thought meanders backwards a bit. Kageyama simultaneously is a lot to him and means a lot to him. Sometimes those meanings take on sharper edges—poke at the parts inside of himself left raw and sensitive through their journey together through volleyball—but those things aren’t actually _Kageyama_ , just as Shouyou’s fits of jealousy aren’t actually Shouyou. 

Kageyama is the big softie holding him right now, probably drooling into his pillow. Kageyama is the awkward boy who’s polite to strangers but terrorizes Shouyou at every opportunity he can get. Kageyama is the one who’s been there with him through thick and thin, on and off the court.

Kageyama is his partner—his rock—and just because he thrives at volleyball doesn’t mean that Shouyou can’t or doesn’t in his own ways.

As long as Shouyou can keep reminding himself of that—especially once they start on their separate paths after high school—then they’ll be okay. And Shouyou trusts himself to pound the damn message through his own thick skull—to stamp it at the forefront of his mind before he can spiral again.

They’ve always been okay in the end, after all.

Comforted by the thought, Shouyou lets the warmth that’s seeping into his skin from behind soak into his bones—lets himself sink down, down, down into the mattress until he’s pulled into a deep sleep. 

**Author's Note:**

> i hav nothing to say for myself. every single fic, i never plan the ushy-wushy-feely-weely scenes, and every single fic, they manifest. it's not _MY_ fault that kagehina are so fucking in love /lh
> 
> if you enjoyed, please do give a kudos / comment / [retweet](https://twitter.com/rinpanna/status/1368789905095163904?s=20)! also come hang w/ me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/rinpanna) where i tweet at least once a week about how sick i am of kagehina being so [gesticulates vaguely] like that. thank you so much for reading!! 💞💞


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